


State of Grace

by bumblebeesknees



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 25 Years of Marital Bliss, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Established Relationship, Extremely and Unapologetically Self-Indulgent, F/M, Family Dynamics, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeesknees/pseuds/bumblebeesknees
Summary: It’s Rafael’s wedding day, which makes for a somewhat hectic morning for the Lightwood-Banes. Things are pretty close to perfect though – if only Magnus could stop teasing Alec about the mostembarrassing incident of his lifethat took place in this very same hall at the Institute over twenty-five years ago.-Alec says, "Raf called in a panic this morning and there's a slight situation with the wedding.”Magnus is instantly on alert.“Of course there is,” says Max, eyes moving heavenward. “Typical.”“Excuse me, no, not typical,” says Magnus. “I planned this wedding, and things don't go wrong when I plan weddings.”





	State of Grace

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this story is very dear to me and the first one i shared with [partnerincrime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/partnerincrime) back when we started writing together in may. two and a half months later and here we are! :D this story is basically a love letter from me to magnus and alec, my happy ending for them. it's got all my fave things: weddings, villains, drama, dancing, fun family banter, and of course - a glimpse into an unwavering, unyielding love so many years later. 
> 
> disclaimer as always: i've not read the books, characterization/canon is with reference to show, etc.
> 
> thank you as always to [partnerincrime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/partnerincrime) for the beta - any remaining mistakes are my own.

Alec wakes with his face tucked into the shallow valley between the blades of Magnus’ shoulders. The alarm is going off but Alec has been indulging the lazy weight of his bones over the last few months, and has lately been opting to stay in bed past the routine one-time hit of the snooze button. Today is no different – the chill of winter hangs heavy in the air. The heat exuding from Magnus’ body might as well be a siren’s song, given the hold it has on Alec. 

Maybe he's becoming cold-blooded with age, he thinks to himself, eyes drifting shut. Alec's feet definitely feel as though they’ve been numbed by ice, and it only takes a little manoeuvring for him to scoot his toes under Magnus’ calves. The sound that Magnus makes expresses some displeasure, but he’s still mostly asleep and seems to be appeased by the drowsy kiss Alec presses to the base of his neck, right at the first knob of his spine.

Alec's almost back to sleep when his phone starts to act up again – but not with the customary alarm. Instead it’s a series of rapid buzzes signifying an onslaught of text messages. Either something amazing has happened that the sender thinks Alec just _has_ to know about, or conversely it's something awful, in which he _definitely_ needs to know about it.

There's a moment when his phone is perfectly still. Before he can breathe a sigh of relief, it starts buzzing again.

“For the love of all that's good in the world,” says Magnus, voice grumpy with interrupted sleep, “Alexander, _turn that off_.”

Alec groans and rolls off of him. Magnus wastes no time at all in folding his pillow over his head. The cursed phone is blessedly still again – but who knows how long that’ll last. When Alec finally checks, there are seventeen unread text messages from Rafael.

Well, he _is_ one of the ten people Alec is guaranteed to respond to, even if it's before sunrise on a weekend morning.

Bleary-eyed, he types, _Give me a sec_ before dragging himself from bed and out the door, pausing only to pull on an errant sweater lying on the dresser. He doesn’t bother to check the context of the texts, instead opting to just call Raf directly. He does just that the second the door shuts behind him and starts his morning stumble toward the coffee machine.

“Hey, Dad,” says Raf, picking up after the first ring. His voice is oddly quiet. “Sorry for bugging you so early.”

“S’ok.” Alec thanks his good senses for having the filter and grinds set up in the machine the night before so all he has to do now is push a button. How was he able to just get up and be ready to go when he was younger and deployed on overnight missions? Probably the adrenaline. “What’s going on? I didn’t get to reading what you sent. Your Papa got annoyed at the phone buzzing.”

Raf laughs, and Alec’s ears pick up a slight echo. Immediately suspicious, he asks, “Where exactly are you?”

Raf pauses for a moment. “Um, the guest bathroom?” 

Alec doesn’t say anything – only raises an eyebrow which Raf can’t even see. Something must come across in the silence though because Raf adds, somewhat defensively, “It’s the only place in the apartment where the sound doesn’t carry to the bedroom! Maria’s still sleeping and I don’t want to bug her.” 

That sounds like a stretch. “So’s your papa, but you don’t see me skulking in the bathroom like I’m taking a call from my drug dealer.” 

“Yeah, because Papa sleeps like the dead and you’ve been spoiled your entire adult life,” dismisses Raf. “You don’t know what it’s like to spend the night with someone who jolts awake if you so much as twitch.”

“Good point,” concedes Alec as he settles onto one of the stools around the kitchen island, coffee in hand. “So what’s going on? Not a good sign if you’re calling your Dad at seven in the morning on your wedding day, Raf.”

“It’s not cold feet, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Good to hear, since that’s _exactly_ what I was thinking.” 

“Do you even know your son?” Taking a deep breath Raf says, “I wanted to give you a heads up that Maria’s uncle Dominic heard about the wedding and asked if he could come to the ceremony. He’s gonna portal in from Zurich.”

Alec freezes, his coffee mug halfway to his lips. 

That would explain the need for seventeen text messages. 

“You realize your Papa’s going to kill him if he comes,” says Alec. He is both pleased and concerned that there’s no noticeable change in his tone. 

“Not you?” asks Raf, even though he knows the answer. Alec and Magnus both share the unfortunate tendency of holding grudges against people who wronged their loved ones, more so than against people who wronged them. 

“You know that I never cared about that. I get that the thing with Dominic wasn’t personal. Your Papa on the other hand has his name underlined _twice_ on his hit list. I distinctly remember him saying that Dominic will ‘live the rest of his life as an earthworm’ if he ever steps foot in New York again.” Alec has to ponder for a moment if topics like this should be considered completely normal conversation between him, Magnus, and the kids. 

“That’s not _killing_ him,” Raf hedges.

“What’s the lifespan of an earthworm, Rafael? Tell me.”

“Okay, okay.” Amazing how Raf can sound like a sulky teenager even when he’s almost thirty. “Listen, we all know that he’s generally an asshole and more specifically tried to sell you to a demon–” Alec snorts, “–and we’ll all hate him forever for it and it would be deserved. But Maria misses him, even if she’ll never admit to it.” Raf pauses, sounding frustrated. “I just – I hate the guy, Dad, but Maria loves him. I want her to have the option of saying yes.”

Alec feels incredibly weary.

“Listen, if Maria wants him there, I want him there,” Alec says. And, because he sees more of himself in his soon-to-be daughter-in-law more than he ever expected to, he adds, “Also tell her not to feel bad about it, okay? Not on my account. I’ll tell your Papa and... I don’t know. I’ll deal with it.”

“Thanks,” says Raf, but he doesn’t sound completely relieved. It’s only expected though – if Alec knows his son at all, he knows that Raf must have spent a good half hour psyching himself up to message Alec and feeling guilty the entire time. “I know that this is shitty and I just. Thanks, okay?”

“Okay, okay.”

Tentatively, Raf continues, “You know that she loves you, right, Dad? Marianna. You’re literally her best friend, which is both weird and amazing.”

“I already said it’s fine, Rafael,” Alec can sense he's rolling his eyes, despite his face growing hot with embarrassment. There is an element of truth to Rafael's words, however – he and Maria have the kind of relationship that Alec of twenty-five years ago would’ve given up an arm for Magnus and his own mother to share. 

A miracle, when Alec thinks about his first meeting with Maria after the whole 'incident' with her uncle. “You don’t have to butter me up even more.” 

“I’m not,” says Raf. There’s something sharp in his tone now that has Alec listening with even more care. “It’s the truth. She asked you to give her away. I know she comes to you when she thinks she can’t come to me. This isn’t about her not caring that this’ll be hard for you. Well, realistically, it’ll be harder for Papa but – that’s not the point. Maria loves our family. There’s a reason why I’m asking this before she even finds out.” 

“Raf,” starts Alec, unsure how to continue. 

“Any other day of my life, I’d say no. You wouldn’t have even heard about it – I’d have put my foot down. You’re my Dad and–" Raf's voice falters, "I’ll literally never forget coming into that warehouse and finding you half-dead –” 

Raf’s words get more and more upset the longer he speaks. Quietly, Alec says, “Raf, stop. I get it. It’s not about anything except wanting the man who raised her to be there for her wedding. Don’t make this more than it is.”

Alec understands that more than anyone. 

“And you,” he continues, “don’t you dare feel like you’ve let me down by asking this.” Pride mixes in with the love that overtakes Alec. It’s been happening more and more frequently these days, whenever Alec looks at his sons and is hit with the wondrous realization of what amazing men they’ve become. All in the blink of an eye. “You can always ask me for anything, especially if it’s to take care of Maria. That’s your first priority, you understand?”

“Yeah,” says Raf, voice scratchy. “I know how this family works.”

“Good,” says Alec firmly. 

“I can tell Papa about all this too, when I come by later. I just – I needed to run this by you first. I’d tell him now, but I’m pretty sure he only went to sleep an hour ago.”

“That seems right,” says Alec. He can’t be sure exactly when he was startled awake by the rustling of blankets, signaling Magnus’ return. “He was re-negotiating the delivery of the jasmines for this morning. I guess the florists in Sumatra drive a hard bargain.” 

Glancing at the clock, Alec says, “I should probably wake him up in a bit so he’s ready to be at the Institute by eleven.”

“Dad, it’s only seven thirty. Papa doesn’t need _that_ long to get ready.” 

“He does when it’s his son’s wedding,” says Alec. “You got anything else on your mind?”

“No, I’m good,” says Raf. “I probably did before seeing Dominic’s email this morning but that freaked me out enough that everything else just seems stupid now.” 

Then, he adds, voice soft and surprisingly sweet, “Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you guys later.”

-

 

The most generous description of Magnus’ sleeping schedule is to say that he keeps 'odd hours', even without taking the whole flower delivery business into account. His magical acumen remains unparalleled, leaving his skills in high demand on a global and, to Alec’s bafflement, an interdimensional level. His reputation as a family man hasn't put a stop to the wildly exaggerated and sometimes downright fabricated stories surrounding his exploits – if anything they've grown worse. How can one man accomplish all that and still be a supportive husband and loving father of two children? 

Alec has suspicions that Magnus is the key culprit in fanning the flames to these rumours, if not the direct source of it.

The result of this is that Alec has always gotten up first – with the sole exception of the months before Max turned one, during which time he and Magnus had been in a rotating shifts of two-hour naps during the night – to put on the coffee and get breakfast started for the family. While Magnus has always insisted that he can, “conjure something up for us with just a snap of my fingers, darling,” for as far back as Alec’s memory goes, Alec hasn’t once changed his tune. 

“Save the snapping for when the universe needs help,” Alec always says. “Not for things like this.” 

If that means a few more hours spent on the weekends running the kids’ laundry and scrubbing down the stove, it’s a price so small to pay for Alec’s peace of mind that it doesn’t even bear mentioning.

An hour after speaking with Raf, Alec’s got breakfast pretty much done. The one compromise he agreed to with Magnus on was to allow him to spell the oven under the stove so that anything put in there would stay in stasis until it was taken out. It was one of the seven presents Magnus gave him for their seven year anniversary because he’d known Alec would never refuse a gift from him. 

Alec stows away the pile of French toast and fried sausages into the charmed oven and puts the bowl of washed strawberries and cut honeydew into the fridge. He starts his wake-up calls next, rapping his knuckles on the door to Max’s room. 

Loudly, he calls out, “Max, get up! You’re supposed to go with your brother to pick up his tux in an hour!”

No response. Of course. Alec knocks harder. “ _Max_.”

“Urghhh.” Max sounds like his voice has gone through a blender. What was this kid _doing_ last night? “Go _away_.” 

“It’s eight forty-five,” says Alec, unwavering. “Get up and get some food in you. Maybe Papa’ll feel generous and give you some of his hangover cure.”

“I don’t need _Papa_ to make me a cure,” is Max’s predictable, irritated response. “Did you forget I’m also a warlock?” 

Did Max forget that Alec’s his _Dad_? “You really want to work with dragonsbane–” just hearing the word has Max groaning, “–when you’re like this? Get up.” 

Max just makes an unintelligible series of sounds which translates to Alec’s ears as, “Why won’t you just let me _live in peace_ ". 

It’s a tone that Alec stupidly thought he’d never have to hear again after the boys moved out, but that just goes to show how much Alec knows. 

Shaking his head, Alec says, “Five more minutes, Max.” 

Max just throws a pillow against the door in response.

When Alec carefully steps into his and Magnus’ bedroom, he finds the bed empty and the sheets left in a mess. The shower’s running though, and Alec takes a second to mentally confirm that all the stoves are turned off before pulling off his sweater and pajama pants and letting himself into the bathroom. He tugs off his ring, places it on the little tray beside Magnus’.

There’s something illicitly thrilling about the seeing Magnus through the frosted glass, the miles of dark, flawless skin. It feels intrusive almost, as though Magnus, in his truest, most timeless form, is something that mortal eyes were never meant to be privy to. 

Except that Alec is. Has been for years now, and it’s only just putting words to that when Magnus calls out, “Are you coming in or not, Alexander?”

Alec’s answer is to step into the steaming hot shower, the door open for barely two seconds. Magnus barely shivers from where he is under the scalding water. He leans in to readily meet Alec’s mouth in greeting, his warm hands coming to rest on Alec’s chest. The water tastes just that much sweeter cascading down Magnus’ lips. 

“Good morning, my dear,” says Magnus, contentment clear in his voice as he pulls away. “Was I overhearing Max giving you a hard time?”

“Max?” asks Alec. He pushes the sopping wet hair off Magnus’ forehead so he has a clearer view of his eyes. “Don’t you mean the other way around?”

“Never,” says Magnus, and Alec leans in again to kiss the smile pulling at Magnus’ mouth. “Less than forty-eight hours back home and already he’s acting like he’s fifteen again? He needs to learn he’s too old to not be listening to his Dad.”

Laughing, Alec says, “I don’t know if any part of that made sense, but thanks. Now pass the shampoo so we can be out of here in less than ten minutes.”

“Oh, Alexander,” says Magnus, sighing in disappointment, “still so sweet.” He draws Alec closer by the waist until Alec’s standing fully under the tumbling water, the tips of his fingers grazing the hollow of Alec’s back. “We’re definitely staying in here for longer than that. I’ve barely seen you for the last few days.”

“Ah, well, you know how it is,” says Alec, closing his eyes as Magnus kisses the sharp cut of his jaw and – when Alec tilts his head aside, baring his neck – moves on to follow the line of Alec’s throat with his mouth. “Kid gets married, everything gets put on hold.”

Magnus sounds pained as he says, “Please don’t talk about our children when I’ve got my hands on your incredible ass and about to get them around your cock.”

“Maybe if you were doing a better job at it,” goads Alec, “I wouldn’t be talking at all.”

“Don’t test me, Alexander,” warns Magnus, but Alec just laughs and takes Magnus’ face between the palms of his hands, licks into the wet heat of his mouth. He nudges Magnus with little steps until Magnus hits the wall with a soft groan, back flush against the cool tiles. 

Magnus is getting hard, and Alec can feel him digging into his hip. Alec lifts his leg just so, bracing one of his knees against the wall and gasps when Magnus grinds down on his thigh; his mouth gets sloppier and more insistent against Alec’s. Alec moans into the kiss, his hips stuttering as Magnus reaches between their bodies with one hand and wraps it around Alec. His fingers feel silken smooth and lava hot and Alec’s _missed_ this, the fire building at the bottom of his navel, the electricity shooting up his spine with each messy tug.

And then there’s Magnus, whose eyes are closed as he chases after Alec’s kiss when Alec breaks away in between great, heaving breaths. As always, it’s only for a moment, just to take a look at Magnus’ face and have the unmatched sight of it bring Alec back to the present. 

He’s the only man Alec has had like this, held like this, _seen_ like this – the drops of water sticking to Magnus’ lashes, his sweet, parted mouth, the way his eyes flutter open and look at Alec with such hunger and ferocity that Alec can’t do anything but dive back in, shiver at the burn of Magnus’ nails clawing down his back. 

“Ah – don’t tease me like that, angel,” murmurs Magnus, when Alec ventures away from his mouth to trail wet kisses down Magnus’ chest, easing to his knees to continue on the path to Magnus’ stomach, where his muscles have gone taut. He softly bites the skin there, just the gentlest graze of his teeth, and Magnus shudders as though he’s been hit with a blast of arctic wind. If Alec were to look down, he’s sure to find Magnus’ toes curling against the tiles. 

Alec licks across the stark line of his pelvis, tongue stopping just shy of Magnus’ cock. Feeling a little playful, he blinks through the pouring water to look up at Magnus and says, “When have I ever teased you? ”

“Feels like every day of my life,” says Magnus, and the hand that pushes the messy locks back and away from Alec’s eyes tangle in the hair at the back of his head and _pulls_. 

It’s barely anything, but it’s enough to cause Alec a sharp gasp, almost fully aroused in an instant. Alec’s blood feels too hot for his body, his heart working overtime.

The water is scorching as it falls down Alec’s back, steaming up the stall and fogging up the glass. Magnus’ eyes flicker gold, the way they do when he’s just at the precipice of losing control. That’s all that Alec needs to take hold of Magnus and guide him into his mouth, hold his tongue flat and let the heat of the shower relax his throat and draw Magnus in deep, giving him that final push.

All the best mornings in Alec’s memories start with some variation of this – and over the last twenty-seven years with Magnus, Alec’s collected a lot of best mornings.

-  
-

 

Despite only having slept for three hours, Magnus feels like he’s got all the energy of the sun coursing through him. Alec just has that indescribable effect on him – Magnus' drowsiness had all but vanished the second Alec stepped in to join him under the scorching hot water, with a glowing smile that creased the corners of his lovely eyes. Magnus had been perhaps _too_ effective in keeping Alec occupied in the shower, unable to resist drawing out those delightful sighs from Alec’s parted mouth. 

By the time the two of them make it out of their room, Max is slumped over the breakfast table in the kitchen. He’s got his mass of long, blue hair tied into a sorry excuse of a bun and gives the two of them a dark look when they enter, as though he knows exactly what his parents were up to for the last twenty-five minutes. Or maybe he’s the kind of hungover that makes any sign of happiness grate at his nerves. 

Magnus presses a sweet, lingering kiss on Alec’s lips and it’s only twenty percent to annoy Max. 

“Yurgh,” says Max, predictably, making a face. “Took you guys long enough.”

“Good morning, hellion,” says Magnus cheerfully to his deeply disgruntled son. “What was the first thing I told you when you started drinking? To always have three batches of hangover cure available to you at _all times_.”

“I’ve obviously got them back at my place,” grumbles Max. “You think I’d go into your stash if I didn’t have to? Yours tastes like crap. Too many firefly wings. How do you keep a business going when you’re selling stuff like that?”

“Don’t talk to your Papa that way,” scolds Alec. “Everything he makes is perfect. Can you help out by setting the table, Max?”

“My hero,” Magnus beams at Alec as Max groans and drags himself off his seat, heading to the cupboards. 

“I mean, except for the obvious,” continues Alec, pulling out something that smells divine from the oven. “Like coffee. Or assembling furniture from IKEA.”

Magnus’ face falls.

How quickly his Alexander changes his loyalties. Magnus' face must show some sign of betrayal since Max starts to laugh. In a gravely offended tone, Magnus says, “I have more money than the Waltons – no child of mine needs _IKEA furniture_ in their bachelor apartment.”

“It’s a matter of _principle_ for Raf, Papa,” says Max. His unimpressed tone makes his opinion on his big brother’s principles clear enough. “Pretends that half his family can’t solve all his problems before nine in the morning. He’s just like Dad, honestly.”

“So annoying,” agrees Magnus.

“I’m right here,” says Alec dryly, placing breakfast on the table. “Putting food on your plates.”

“Yes, it’s not a very nice feeling when your husband and child turn on you, is it, my darling?” 

Alec just shakes his head. A surge of affection bursts inside Magnus for no good reason as Alec takes the same seat he always does, at Magnus’ right. Alec’s hair is still messy and damp, curling a little around his ears. A drop of water trickles down the strong line of neck. Magnus’ blood runs hot at the sight, and it’s absurd and completely unsurprising that he gets the indecent urge to run his tongue along the same path the droplet is following. It's only the fact that Max is _sitting right there_ that stops Magnus from doing so. 

It doesn’t prevent him from thinking back to their little rendezvous in the shower though, marvels at how much things stay the same even as everything else changes. Marks of the years gone by are present all over Alec; there's gray starting to take over his dark hair and his large, capable hands have started to become weathered. There are lines around his eyes and mouth that speak of decades’ worth of happiness. 

But the sound that escapes Alec from deep within his chest when Magnus has his fingers wrapped around him – low and guttural – that sound is timeless. 

When Magnus had finally let Alec go for long enough to get themselves dried off, Alec had taken Magnus' left hand and slid his wedding band back onto the Magnus’ ring finger. Alec's hold had been so careful and his expression so focused that Magnus couldn't help but draw him close again couldn’t help but bury his face into the welcoming curve of Alec's neck and settle his hands on the warm skin of Alec's shoulder blades. 

That, too, had been timeless: the unbearable weight of love and gratefulness that overtook all of Magnus' body, the wonder of having the regard of the single most remarkable being Magnus has ever met.

He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until Alec says, “Speaking of which. I need to talk to you two about something. Raf called in a panic this morning and there's a slight situation with the wedding.” 

Magnus is instantly on alert.

“Of course there is,” says Max, eyes moving heavenward. “Typical.”

“Excuse me, no, not typical,” says Magnus. “ _I_ planned this wedding, and things don't go wrong when I plan weddings.” He turns to look at Alec, frowning. “What did Raf say?”

Taking a deep breath, Alec says, “Maria’s uncle Dominic might be coming to the ceremony.”

At the sound of the name, Magnus freezes. 

“ _What_ ,” says Max, voice flat. 

“It’s fine,” says Alec. “Today’s not about us, it’s about Rafael and Maria. Having him there will make Maria happy, and having Maria happy will make Raf happy. It’s a win-win.”

“Except for the part where _your attempted murderer_ will be there,” says Max, sounding disbelieving. He looks to a silent Magnus for support and demands, “Don’t you have anything to say about this?”

Magnus’ problem is that he has _far_ too much to say about this.

There are very few people that Magnus has it out for more than Maria’s uncle Dominic, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before he lets that man come _anywhere_ near Alec. He’s caused enough problems already. Magnus still remembers rushing into the demon summoning four years ago as vividly as if it had just happened yesterday – finding Raf with a dagger held at Dominic’s throat and his seraph blade skewered through Dominic’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Maria, telling her uncle to take back the offer of Alec’s life to the demon. 

Magnus remembers all these details, but none as vividly as the sight of Alec, unconscious on the ground in a rapidly darkening pool of his own blood, lips blue and forearms slashed with demonic markings. 

There isn't a severe enough punishment, as far as Magnus is concerned. No one’s ever come so close to taking Alec away from them before and Magnus has no sympathy. It had taken weeks to coax Alec awake from his unsettling, unnatural slumber, soul trapped by the evil markings that couldn’t be healed by magic. 

That Magnus’ heart is tied to the beat of Alec’s own is something Magnus had known for decades, but it hadn’t been until he’d been forced to spend almost two months without Alec to fully realize what life would be like without him: a hollow, second rate replica of the real thing. He’d gotten too used to the unwavering presence of Alec’s love, even when they’re upset at each other, glowing brighter than a beacon and always welcoming Magnus home. 

Magnus wasn’t going to lose that even a fraction of a second earlier than he had to. 

No one was going to get away with threatening the foundation that Magnus’ life was built on without paying for it. The only reason Dominic is still alive right now is because the man had information to help recover missing families across North America that had been plucked from the shadow world over the past few months. It should probably matter that one of those families was Dominic’s, that the whole disaster with Alec had been an attempt to get them back – but Magnus finds that he doesn’t care.

Not when faced with the memory of Alec’s soulless body.

“Well,” says Max, breaking the silence after it lingers uncomfortably long and it becomes obvious Magnus is too fraught with rage to say anything. “I wasn’t planning on causing any problems today, so don’t worry about that. On a totally unrelated note, what are the consequences of a warlock banishing someone to Pluto?” 

“The same as one for _killing a man_ , Max, because a mortal in Pluto would die in two seconds.” Alec gives them a look that leaves no room for arguments. “We’re all going to be civil about this and not cause any unnecessary drama at Rafael’s wedding.”

Magnus finally says, “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, darling. I distinctly remember promising to turn that man into the worm that he is if I ever see him again. I can't be seen as the type of warlock who doesn't keep his promises. It’s bad for business.”

Alec stares at him, unmoved and unimpressed. 

“Papa,” says Max, warningly, looking between Alec and Magnus and coming to the appropriate conclusion. “Don’t you dare break.”

“Magnus,” says Alec, equally threatening, “I know we all hate him but he’s Maria’s uncle and this is Raf’s _wedding_.”

Both their eyes are blazing with twin fires – Alec’s lovely hazel and Max’s deep, azure blue – glowing with righteous conviction even when they’re arguing different sides. There’s no doubt that they’re father and son. 

With great reluctance, Magnus says, “...Fine.”

Max groans and gives him a look of extreme disappointment. “Weak. You’re so, so weak.” 

“Put a brake on that sarcastic commentary, blueberry. Obviously I was joking about the earthworm thing.” 

He most certainly was not joking – and Alec knows it too, given the way he rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not going to start an incident at my own son’s wedding.” That part is true. “If I really can’t resist, I’ll just... make his dinner incredibly salty or give him an itch at an interesting place. Something harmless.”

After another moment of looking wary at the face of Magnus’ suspiciously easy concession, Alec gives in to laughter.

“Okay, that sounds like a fair compromise,” he says, the crows’ feet prominent at the corners of his eyes. “Maybe some pebbles can mysteriously appear in his shoes.”

“Extra small condoms can accidentally spill out of his pocket.”

“Toilet paper can–”

“Please stop this bizarre flirting and let me just banish the man to the other side of the solar system,” begs Max. “Please.”

“No to both,” says Alec, and Max can only sigh theatrically in response. It serves as a segue to settle back into the usual pace of breakfast though, Alec seemingly content with the conclusion of their conversation given the easy, comfortable way he rests his free hand on Magnus’ knee as he asks Max about the speech he’ll be giving at the reception.

Alec barely finishes two pieces of toast when he gets a call from Idris – something about the security detail of the Clave officials coming to the ceremony. He excuses himself to the bedroom with a look of such immense annoyance on his face that Magnus has to laugh. 

Max sets aside a plate for Alec to finish after his call before starting to clear up the table. Magnus starts on the dishes in the sink, the mixing bowls and frying pans Alec had used earlier. 

Throwing an instinctive glance over his shoulder to make sure Alec’s out of hearing distance, Max says in a low voice, “You’re not just going to let Dominic get away with a fucking rock in his shoe after what he did to Dad, right? I know he’s Maria’s uncle and basically her father but–”

“Max,” interrupts Magnus calmly. “Of course not. Please don’t insult me. If that man actually has the nerve to show his face at the wedding, I’m going to break his spine straight in two.” 

-

 

A few minutes later, there’s a jangle of keys outside the front door before Rafael lets himself in. He’s dressed in a long woollen coat and a deep red scarf, his ears pink from the cold. Alec would probably tell him to put on a hat, but Magnus understands that more often than not, sacrifices must be made in the name of fashion. 

“Hey,” greets Raf, walking into the kitchen to give Magnus a hug and clap Max on the shoulder. “I smell French toast. Dad had time to make breakfast?”

“In the oven,” says Magnus, dusting some of the errant snowflakes off Raf’s hair. Pointedly, he continues, “Your Dad’s taking a call right now. He had a pretty exciting morning, it seems like.”

Smile fading fast from his face, Raf says, “He told you about Dominic already, huh?”

“Yeah, he did,” says Max. “What the hell is wrong with you? Tell your psychotic uncle-in-law that it’s better for everyone – _especially_ for him – if he just stays in Zurich.”

“Max,” reproaches Magnus, even though he doesn’t disagree. Raf and Max are close, as close as Alec is with his siblings. Magnus has always hated seeing them fight.

“He’s coming to the wedding,” says Raf, sounding resolute, if unhappy. “Dominic’s been telling Maria for years that he’s sorry, and both of you know that _we’re_ the only reason she feels like she can’t make amends.”

Max’s face doesn’t change. The youngest member of their little family has always been overly protective of Alec, but Magnus has noticed a harder edge to it since the incident with Dominic. Something scared, more frantic. 

“Or maybe,” says Max, “it’s because she’s got common sense.”

“Marianna _cried_ while thanking me when I told her that Dad was okay with it,” says Raf, and his voice gets cold. Max looks briefly guilty. “And the only other time I’ve ever seen her cry in front of me was when she had an actual sword piercing through her stomach. So you can keep your opinions on my wife ’s common sense quiet.”

“Children, enough.” Magnus closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes that the sting of pain will alleviate the much greater problem of an impending headache. “Rafa, of course we want Marianna to be happy. This is just – none of us want to see that man near your Dad.”

“Some of us want to break his nose,” mutters Max, darkly. 

Raf sighs. He unwinds his scarf and drapes it over the back of his usual chair around the breakfast table before taking a seat. 

“Trust me, I get it,” he says quietly. “I was the first one to find Dad, remember? I almost killed Dominic that day, and only stopped because Maria reminded me we needed him to severe the demon’s connection to Dad. She testified to have him sent away. But Maria’s about to become my family.” 

Raf pauses, looking away from Magnus and Max. “And it’s not – I get what you’re saying, I get what you’re feeling, and I think it’s all _right_. I would be angry if you didn’t. But you guys also have to get why I can’t – I can’t react the way you are. There’s one more person that I have to think about who’s just as important as you three.”

There is a moment of absolute, overwhelming silence. And then–

“Damn it, Raf,” says Max, voice hoarse. Everything about his expression – which was rife with aggression just a moment ago – is softer as he looks at his brother. “Why’d you have to say it like that?” 

“How else was I supposed to say it?” asks Raf, looking confused.

“In a way that doesn’t make me feel like a total asshole, maybe,” grumbles Max, and Raf laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“No way to do that since you _are_ an a– ow!” Raf scowls at Max, probably for kicking his shin under the table. It’s a habit that was developed when they had been eight and five, respectively. “Go and get ready, you punk. It’ll take us half an hour to drive to the tailor.”

“No it won’t, it’ll take three seconds because we’re _not_ driving into Manhattan in the snow at ten in the morning on a Saturday. I’m not a lunatic. I’ll portal us.” 

Raf rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’ll go well. Last time you portaled us into the city, we almost got attacked by drunk grad students.”

“Can you let that go, please.”

“Can you go and get changed, please.”

Max rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet. “Fine. I hope you’re not double parked like a jackass and got a good spot on the street. Your car’s not gonna move from there for the next month while you’re off honeymooning.” 

“ _Max_ ,” says Raf, throwing a placemat at him. “ _Go._ ”

Max finally disappears down the hall. Raf shakes his head, and Magnus watches the two of them with an immense tenderness blossoming inside him. 

“Papa?” says Raf tentatively. “You okay?”

Magnus isn’t okay. He’s struck silent, as is always the case when it hits him what decent young men his sons have grown to be. Raf isn’t even thirty and he has the emotional grace and astuteness that took Magnus centuries to gather, ready to start a family as he continues to carefully take care of the one he comes from.

Carefully, so his voice doesn’t crack, Magnus says, “When did you get so wise, Rafael?”

Raf’s eyes grow soft with understanding.

“Learned from the best,” he says, not lowering his gaze from Magnus’. “Who else do we know that gave someone else a second chance because they’re important to the person we love most in the world, huh?”

A strange exhaustion overtakes Magnus’ body at the reminder. “This isn’t anywhere near the same situation.” 

“I think it’s exactly the same.”

Is it? Magnus can’t help but think he hates Dominic more than he’s ever hated Maryse Lightwood, and she had been party to killing Magnus’ loved ones when she and her husband had been part of the Circle. On a different matter altogether, if equally as important to Magnus, she’d been one of the main reasons Alec’s heart had been so brittle and bruised when Magnus had first met him. 

And yet Magnus had let her build a bridge between them. He let Maryse apologize and make amends. Magnus never did learn to trust her, but the peace and happiness it brought Alec to have her in his life as a supportive presence was worth any price. Eventually, Magnus had believed that if nothing else, the love she had for Alec in her heart was true.

If Raf’s words were brutal in their honesty, his gaze is full of compassion. He hates this too, thinks Magnus. Seeing Dominic able to move and act freely when the man barely got a slap on the wrist for what he did to Alec. But he would do it for Marianna. 

“You’re a better man than I was at your age,” says Magnus. “I’m proud of you.”

“Stop it,” says Raf, embarrassed, even though Magnus can see he's touched. “You know I’m a mess.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” teases Magnus. “It’s not like I used your Dad as an example. Me at twenty-seven is a very low bar to beat.” Thoughtfully, he continues, “I’m pretty sure I spent that year on a pirate ship.”

It’s Alec who replies to him this time, walking back into the kitchen. “No, that was between years thirty-one to thirty-four.”

“I can’t believe you’re fact checking my life,” complains Magnus, pulling his face into an exaggerated pout. “Who told you all this insider information?”

“You know I can’t reveal my informants,” replies Alec, not missing a beat. He turns to Raf and says, “Did your brother and Papa save you any breakfast?”

“Hey, Dad,” says Raf, grinning. “It’s cool, I ate with Maria before coming over. They pointed me toward the oven though.”

“Good,” says Alec. “I’ve been meaning to ask for weeks now but it keeps slipping from me – what are you guys doing about being legally married outside the Clave’s laws? Is that something you want?”

“Yeah, we went and picked up a marriage license from the city last week,” says Raf. “Speaking of which – did you know that Brother Isiah is registered to officiate marriage ceremonies with the City of New York? How’s that even possible? His birth certificate’s must be from, like, 1912.”

Alec turns to look at Magnus for help, but Magnus can only laugh. 

“Oh no,” he says, getting to his feet and pressing a quick kiss onto Alec’s adorable frown. “You can explain to our son the increasingly creative ways nephilim keep themselves integrated into the mundane world. I have to change before heading to the Institute and making sure things are getting set up properly.”

“Thanks again for taking care of everything, Papa.”

“I still haven’t forgiven you for wanting the ceremony at the place of your employment in the middle of December.” 

“My place of employment is where I fell in love with my soon to be wife!” says Raf. “Don’t you see the romance in that?”

“Sadly I do,” sighs Magnus. “Well, I suppose I needed a challenge, and I _am_ a miracle worker.”

Laughing, Raf says, “Can you use your miracle making powers to get your other son out here so we can get going?”

“Even I have my limits, Rafael,” says Magnus. “But I’ll try my best.”

-  
-

 

Alec technically has the day off, but he still ends up working remotely for about an hour after Raf and Max leave to go pick up their tuxes. He had been called to consult on a string of gruesomely intriguing murders that the Cairo Institute has been investigating, and would likely be heading out to Egypt after the wedding. 

A wedding which Alec should probably get ready for. The ceremony doesn’t start until after four, but Magnus has to be there by eleven to receive the delivery of jasmines and Alec had been planning on going with him to make sure business was running as usual. Even _with_ the excitement of the Lightwood-Bane-Torres union. 

The second he steps into their bedroom and lays eyes on Magnus, however, all thought of work vanishes from Alec’s mind. 

“Wow,” he says, feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. While Alec is well aware of the hold Magnus has on him, this is just – there have only been a few times he’s felt his knees actually go weak with desire. “You look – wow.”

Magnus, who had been finishing putting on the final touches of shimmering black on his eyelids, turns to smile at him. His face is full of mischief. “You like it?”

“You’re an awful man, Magnus Bane,” says Alec, slowly walking closer and unable to look away because Magnus– 

Magnus looks like he’s walked straight out of the deepest recesses of Alec’s mind, a memory from twenty-seven years passed. He’s dressed in midnight black, the seams of his shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders and silver buttons done up all the way to the collar. His fingernails are painted black. His hair is streaked with magenta, styled so its pushed away from his forehead. He’s clean shaven for the first time in years; when Alec reaches to cup Magnus’ cheek, the feeling of his skin under against Alec’s palm is at once strange and intimately familiar, much like the sight before him. 

“If I’d had that jacket on right now,” murmurs Magnus, mouth just a hairsbreadth away from Alec’s, “would it have made you stride in here and reel me in for a million dollar kiss?”

“You don’t need a jacket for that,” is Alec’s response before he moves in to prove it, capturing Magnus’ lips between his own. Magnus’ mouth is hot and wanting as it opens up to Alec, the rings adorning his fingers tantalizingly cold as his hands slip underneath the hem of Alec’s thin t-shirt and dig in to his back.

It’s different from that first kiss that changed everything so many years ago. Magnus is as necessary and familiar to Alec now as his own heartbeat, as opposed to diving into a vast, yet promising, undiscovered universe. It’s still exhilarating – the crackles of electricity sending shivers up his spine and goosebumps erupting across his arms – but within the confines of something he knows and understands. 

Within the boundaries of love, one so fundamental to Alec’s existence that it’s present in every cell in his body.

“I’m not finished making this face appropriately stunning yet,” says Magnus, pressing the words against Alec’s mouth. He makes no move to pull away from Alec.

“You wake up every morning looking appropriately stunning,” replies Alec fondly, but he finds it in him to move back. He pushes a lock of hair away from Magnus’ eyes that had fallen loose, tucking it behind the shell of his ear.

Magnus laughs. “Is it awfully uncivilized of me to be wearing this? I admit, I started putting it together mostly to tease you.”

“Tease me about the best day of my life?”

Magnus’ warm gaze grows impossibly even warmer. 

“Best day of _my_ life,” he gently corrects. He leans in to kiss Alec again, short and sweet.

Alec, to whom Magnus looks like a vision in any form, doesn’t know exactly what else Magnus has left to do to before he declares himself finished. However, Alec himself is still in his sleep clothes so he hustles to it, divesting the sweatpants and t-shirt and pulling on a navy button down, tucking the tail into dark gray slacks. To this day, Magnus still hasn’t given up in trying to introduce colour into Alec’s wardrobe but it’s as much of a losing battle today as it was when Alec was in his twenties. 

In fact, it’s probably more so now. There had been a time, very early on, when Alec would catch his reflection in the mirror and think, _really? This is what Magnus is into?_. But they had been in the middle of a war, and then Alec had been spearheading reforms in the Accords, and then there were children – and somewhere along the way, what Alec wore and looked like had ceased to matter.

Alec pulls out the absurdly expensive cufflinks the boys had given him for his fiftieth birthday. He clips them on, adjusts the cuffs; when he looks up, he finds Magnus staring at him with a strange, thoughtful look on his face. 

“Magnus?” asks Alec. “You good?”

Startling out of his daze, Magnus smiles at him. Even from the distance his eyes look bright and liquid, endlessly deep. “More than,” he replies. “You just look very dashing, Alexander. Very handsome.”

“If you say so,” says Alec. “I still need to brush my hair and run that lint remover over my jacket. How about you? Are you done?”

“Almost,” says Magnus. He walks up to Alec, the fall of his bare feet soundless against the wooden floor. He takes Alec’s hands in between both his own and presses something into Alec’s palm.

It’s lipstick. The cylindrical container is made of metal that is a pleasant shade of lilac and looks laughably small when compared to the size of Alec’s hand. He looks to Magnus in question, wondering what his next step is, but he’s startled into silence when he meets Magnus’ eyes, finds him gazing at Alec in a way that’s too much, too soft and affectionate for such a seemingly ordinary moment; just the two of them, getting ready to go out for the day. 

Quietly, Magnus says, “Help your hapless husband put this on, would you?”

Alec’s heart squeezes tight in his chest. He doesn’t quite know why he’s reacting this way and why it is suddenly so difficult to speak – he feels as if he is choking on whatever it is that’s filling him up, pushing aside the oxygen in his body to bind with his blood. 

“Of course,” he says. Alec places his free hand at the dip of Magnus’ back, uses it to guide him toward the bed. Every movement suddenly seems significant. He waits for Magnus to take a seat at the edge before joining him, orienting their bodies toward each other. 

Alec has only done this a handful of times, the first of which had set the tone – it had been after a particularly gruesome incident of poisoned werewolf children, and Magnus’ magic had been severely depleted after expending it for eighteen straight hours to keep the poison from spreading to their hearts. In the days that it took for his strength to come back, his hands would start to shake violently at unexpected times, making his morning routine an exercise in frustration. 

Alec had woken up that fateful morning to find Magnus glaring at his trembling arms in the bathroom, his makeup scattered around the sink and a streak of black running from the corner of his right eye and across his temple. Alec had been unable to bear it. He had reached around Magnus to gather the supplies in his arms and deposited them on the bed before coming back and retrieving a baffled looking Magnus and pulled him gently back into their room.

“I’ll be your hands for as long as you need me to,” Alec had said, cleaning away the errant mascara. “Just tell me what to do. I’m good at following instructions.”

Of course, that first time had been a disaster – but Magnus had laughed, and let Alec wipe his face clear and try again and again and again. After, Magnus had quietly said, “Thank you, Alexander.”

“For what?” Alec had asked, admiring the perfect winged end of Magnus’ eyeliner after an hour of failed attempts. “You don’t have to thank me for doing what I signed up for.”

“You didn’t sign up to be my makeup artist.”

“But I signed up to take care of you,” Alec had said, and hadn’t understood at that time what that subsequent shift in Magnus’ gaze had meant. “It’s all just a part of that. Now be quiet, I need to mentally prepare myself for this mascara business.”

Compared to the anxiety of using an eyelash curler on Magnus, lipstick is simple. He uncaps the lilac container and twists the bottom until the brighter mauve tip peeks out. Magnus watches Alec’s fingers at work, gaze heavy with intent.

With his free hand, Alec reaches forward to carefully lift Magnus’ chin and cradle his jaw. Magnus’ eyes flutter close and his mouth obligingly parts. Without thinking about it, Alec runs his thumb over Magnus’ lips and feels his own heartbeat pick up at the hitch of Magnus’ breath. 

“I’m about to start,” says Alec. Something about the stillness, the silence in the room has him whispering. Magnus gives a minute nod and Alec positions the slanted end onto the corner of Magnus’ mouth. As always, he’s grateful for his steady hands, his ability focus past Magnus’ closeness, Magnus' warm breath against the tips of Alec’s fingers. Alec presses down lightly, follows the path of Magnus’ soft bottom lip to the other side and leaving behind a sweeping trail of mauve. 

His family’s the only thing that Alec’s had that reminds him his hands are capable of more than just executing the duties of a shadowhunter. Magnus is the only person he’s ever held that makes him think that with Magnus as the canvas, his hands can create art.

He follows the path of Magnus’ mouth back to the starting point, watches the colour sink in deep. When Alec lifts his hand, Magnus’ eyes briefly flicker open. He purses his lips to spread the colour without looking away from Alec.

“Open,” says Alec. When Magnus does, Alec starts again at the bow of Magnus’ lips, carefully tracing the natural lines back to the corners. It strikes Alec, not for the first time, that this is one of the most intimate ways Magnus has let him in. Everything Alec does is to take care of the people and the world he loves, but this – this is something that’s only to take care of Magnus.

Once he’s finished, Alec places the lipstick aside and neatens the colour at the edges of Magnus’ lips with his thumbnail. Magnus has been holding himself still – but now, it seems like he’s frozen in place and barely moving, even as he breathes. He keeps his eyes closed, the flecks of silver on his black eyeshadow reminiscent of pinpricks of light scattered throughout the night sky. 

Through a dry throat, Alec says, “Okay, I’m done.”

A blink – and then Magnus is gazing at him with golden irises full of that that same, unfathomable warmth. The ache of its weight is almost sweet, pressing down on Alec’s chest. 

Magnus grins at him and asks, “How do I look?”

“Amazing,” says Alec. “I may have put it on a bit too strong for the look you were going for though.”

“Oh?” 

Magnus raises his brows and Alec shrugs apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Why? We can fix that easily enough,” Magnus says, and then he’s bracing his hands on Alec’s knees, leaning forward to press his mouth gently against Alec’s own. He steals Alec’s breath right out of him, just in another way. 

Alec licks his lips as Magnus pulls back, tastes the hint of waxy mauve left behind. “What about now?”

A thousand wings flutter in Alec’s chest. The vastness with which he loves this man is immeasurable, and in moments like this it hits Alec that it’s not just any one, two, or a hundred things – it’s just Magnus, in everything that he is. 

Smiling, he says, “Maybe a little bit lighter, still.”

In response, Magnus takes Alec’s face in his hands and pauses just for a moment. His eyes flit all over Alec’s features, gaze becoming heavier, darker. 

This time when he kisses Alec, it’s just a little bit harder. This time he doesn’t pull away, just presses his lips to Alec’s again and again and again. Alec winds his arms around Magnus and lets Magnus push him on to his back until Alec is lying flush over their crimson duvet. 

Magnus swings his legs so that his knees rest on either Alec’s hips, bracketing them. Every moment with Magnus feels like the right time to be kissing him, so Alec just kisses back, opens his mouth to the press of Magnus’ tongue. He thinks about just staying here for the rest of the day, let Magnus unbutton his shirt and tug off his pants and take Alec however he wants.

But Magnus doesn’t do any of that. His palms slide up Alec’s torso until his fingers are curling into Alec’s hair. He doesn’t seem to be interested in doing anything except kissing Alec. Sweetly, languorously. Like he has all the time in the world.

Magnus does pull away, eventually, and Alec sees that his careful efforts with the lipstick were in vain. All that mauve is smeared across Magnus’ mouth, messy and debauched. 

He looks like the faultless, reverent creation of a devout artist. He looks like a late night fantasy. 

He’s the best thing Alec’s ever laid eyes on. 

As Magnus caresses the apple of Alec’s cheek, he murmurs, “I do love you more than I love this world combined, _sayang_.”

Throat tight, Alec helplessly says, “I love you, too.” 

The response, as always, feels too inadequate to capture the storm of affection and tenderness clawing inside of Alec, but Magnus never seems to mind. If anything, he seems to understand everything Alec tries to say because that inexplicable weight behind Magnus’ gaze grows even heavier, still, as he says, “And I’m the most blessed man on this earth because of it.”

When they kiss again one last time, it's Alec who moves in to meet Magnus and it's an _I love you_ , a _thank you_ , and a _good God, how do I get to have this?_ all at once.

-

 

The Institute is in chaos when Alec steps through the portal with Magnus. It's the kind of chaos that can't possibly be related to the fear of doing a poor job in setting up the wedding ceremony for Magnus Bane’s son.

“Lower demons at Grand Central,” one of the team leads shouts. “I need at least four archers in my unit–”

Magnus watches them hurry off with raised eyebrows. “Do you want to go check in with them?”

“No,” says Alec. “I just wanted to make sure no one was slacking off. Anything that happens today requiring higher authority than the team leaders is Jace's problem.”

“ _Really_ ,” says Magnus, looking intrigued. “So if, hypothetically speaking, there was a colony of sprites set loose in Prospect Park–”

“Jace would have to deal with whatever havoc they cause,” confirms Alec. He can’t help but smile – Magnus really is something else. The two of them walk toward Alec's office, weaving gracefully around the bustling shadowhunters. Innocently, Alec continues, “Why do you ask?”

“Absolutely no reason, my love. What about a djinn going around SoHo granting ill-advised wishes?”

“Jace.”

“What about a vampire who had a wild night with a grad student and needs an extraction because he couldn't wake up early enough to–”

“Jace,” repeats Alec, but he has to laugh. “You're getting pretty specific with these hypothetical problems, Magnus.”

“Well, you know me. Always prepared with five different contingency plans.” Magnus looks pleased when Alec laughs. His expression morphs into annoyance when his phone’s alarm goes off a moment later. “And that’s my cue to go back to Sumatra to portal seven thousand US dollars worth of _melati_ here.”

Sometime around when Alec had turned thirty, he’d finally stopped being shocked at just how staggeringly wealthy Magnus was. Shadowhunters don’t get paid – their entire species relies on the Clave’s central financial investors and the corporations running the mundane world to keep them sustained. They only have the one bank in Alicante, and Magnus always ominously says, “Nothing good ever came out of consolidating so much power, Alexander.” 

While he lived at the Institute, Alec hadn’t really questioned where the money in his bank account came from and how the Clave determined how much to allocate to him. It wasn’t until he accidentally wiped out half his savings account that one time he purchased a nice ring from Fifth Avenue for Magnus’ ever growing collection that Alec realized there was a huge gap in his worldly knowledge. 

A horrified Magnus had made him return it. Alec signed up for a course at the City College on money management and the world’s financial systems. 

“Okay,” says Alec, kissing Magnus’ proffered cheek in goodbye. “I’ll see you soon.”

With Magnus busy for the next little while portaling in flowers from Indonesia, Alec decides to go find Maria. She had told Alec yesterday that since she would have to be at the Institute to get ready, she might as well come in a bit earlier to get some work done. It’s the kind of decision Alec can’t even argue against without being a complete hypocrite, which is probably why she told him in the first place. 

Marianna Torres really is more like Alec than anyone wants to admit, and it says a lot about how far Alec has come in accepting himself that he likes her because of it, not despite it. 

When Maria is not on active duty – which even she agreed wouldn’t be a good idea on the day of her wedding – she’s usually in the archives, plowing through their frankly embarrassingly high number of unsolved cases. She’s got one of the highest resolution rates in the Institute that leads Alec to think Maria will eventually end up in a more specialized role, but she _is_ only twenty-seven and also seems to like killing things more than she likes being a detective.

He goes toward the archives and finds her almost immediately, standing with her arms crossed across her chest and staring intently at the pieces of a case file spread out across a table. Physically, Maria’s features are soft – from her oval shaped face to the gentle slopes of her eyes – but her expression is focused, severe. Her single-mindedness and ability to shrug off all distractions is what makes Maria one of their very best. 

“Hey,” he greets her. Maria looks up sharply, muscles tensing as she instinctively steels for a fight. Her posture eases when she sees it’s Alec, but something else changes, too. She may not look ready to attack, but she certainly looks like she’s gearing herself up for something. “I guess we’re still not finished digitizing our files from this century?” 

“They’re still working through the 2020s,” she informs him. “Has the special projects team stopped giving you progress reports?”

“No, they still provide it,” says Alec, leaning against one of the shelves running along the wall. “I just check every two months now instead of every week.” 

“It would go faster if we had more than three people working on it.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Maria finally cracks a smile and Alec relaxes. He asks her, “What are you working on?”

What Alec really means to ask is, “How are you doing?” but he figures Maria understands him, since they are, as Magnus puts it, “birds of the same, workaholic feather.”

“Unsolved triple murder from four years back,” she responds. “Vampires, two visiting from Chicago and the other from the DuMort clan. Decapitated with a seraph blade, so their bodies were all still intact.”

“Ah, I remember that one.” Raphael hadn’t been happy with the shadowhunters’ lack of success, but after six months of no new leads, even the stubborn vampire had to admit defeat. “You think you’re on to something?”

“Might be,” she says. “I’ll need a couple days after Rafael and I get back to check out the site where the bodies were found.”

“Consider this conversation as pre-approval.”

“Thanks, boss.” Maria starts to gather the papers together, placing them back into the case folder. She’s efficient, even in performing the most menial of duties.

A few silent moments later, Maria carefully asks, “Were you looking for me for something specifically?” 

Alec has known from the start that Maria doesn’t care about the fussy formalities of a wedding. Part of it is just her nature, where she’d be fine booking a thirty minute appointment with a Silent Brother to witness her and Raf draw the necessary runes on each other. But it’s important to Raf and Raf is important to Maria, so that had been the end of that discussion. Much like how having Magnus as his husband had been important to Alec, in every capacity of that title – to be witnessed by their family and friends and every important delegate from the shadow world, to have the rings, the runes, to look into Magnus’ eyes and say it out loud, how much Magnus is cherished. How much he is loved.

But then there’s the other part. 

Ever since the whole disaster with Dominic, Maria’s the one who has suffered the most. Alec’s not blind to the fact that there’s almost no one coming to the wedding from Maria’s family, with her being estranged from them ever since Dominic’s banishment from the continent. Maria doesn’t need people the way most do, but if she’s anything like Alec she needs at least someone to tell her that she deserves to be happy too. 

“I was,” says Alec. “Just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Not planning to run out on your son, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Actually, I was more worried about you,” says Alec quietly. “And hoping you weren’t beating yourself up about your uncle being here today.”

Maria’s hands still over one of the crime scene photos. 

“Marianna?”

Clearing her throat, Maria says, “Yes, Rafael – Rafael told me that he spoke with you about it.”

“He did And I wanted to tell you myself that today’s about you and Raf, and we’re all one hundred percent behind Dominic being here today.”

“Oh, come on,” says Maria, rolling her eyes. “There’s no way Magnus wants him here.”

“He definitely doesn’t,” confirms Alec. “But he’s a good man, and he’ll suck it up and deal with it because he cares about you. Trust me when I say that Magnus has put up with a lot worse for my sake.”

“But none of them tried to kill you,” says Maria evenly. “He’d never put up with that, Alec. And for me to–”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you what I told Magnus – it was years ago, and it wasn’t even personal.” 

But Maria’s shaking her head. “ _That_ part doesn’t matter. It still wasn’t right and I _know_ that – I just need at least one person to tell me that I’m being a selfish bitch by wanting him here.”

“Well, you’re not going to hear it from me. Or Magnus. Definitely not from Raf.”

“Maybe I should go find Max.”

“Max is going to get his ass kicked if he ever says that,” says Alec. “Which he won’t because one, I raised a good kid, and two, he doesn’t think that about you. Come on, you know that.”

This makes Maria laugh, even as she blinks the wetness out of her eyes. Marianna may have a drive and an incomparable ability to focus that makes her one of the best protectors of this world, but there’s an honesty and unpracticed sweetness to her that makes Alec’s heart ache in empathy. 

He walks over to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

Pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes, she says, “I’m sorry, Alec.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

“I don’t – I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about what he did, about what he did to _you_ –”

“I get it, Maria. I promise, I understand – no one’s forgotten your testimony during his trial.” Alec pauses and takes a deep breath before saying, “And I think you should ask him to be your _suggenes_ and give you away.”

Immediately Maria moves away from him. 

“Oh, no,” she says vehemently. “I’m not going to do that. It’s more than enough that you guys are willing to let him come to this thing–”

“Your wedding,” supplies Alec, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“Yes, that – you’re doing more than enough for my sake.”

“I think,” starts Alec, “that _you’ve_ been stopping yourself from forgiving the man who loved and raised you, just for us. Even if he did do something terrible, we – Magnus, Max, Raf, and me – we all want you to be happy Maria. So just – think about it. And if you really don’t want him to, I’m still here as the original plan.”

There is a long, uncertain silence as Maria stares at him. There’s something about her that’s so strong and defiant, even now, with her dark brown eyes bright and liquid.

“Okay,” she says at last. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. You’re still free to have lunch with me and Magnus?”

“Yeah, just – let me get this place cleaned up and I’ll see you two in a couple hours.” She hesitates, visibly pulling herself together to say, “Thanks, Alec. For everything, not just this talk.”

“Don’t mention it,” says Alec. He gives in to his instinct of drawing her into a hug, one that she carefully returns. “It’s what I’m here for.”

-  
-

 

Lunch with Marianna is, as always, a delight. Doubly so with Alec there. There is no other combination of two individuals on this planet that could give Magnus conversational gems such as:

“We decided we _did_ want to visit Kota Bharu while in Malaysia,” says Maria, answering Magnus’ question on where she and Rafael were heading to on their honeymoon, after Magnus gets them started by portaling them to the Maldives. 

“You know,” says Alec, “that’s the city with one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of this decade for the shadow world.”

“The Hibiscus Massacre,” says Maria. “Yeah, that’s why I wanted to add it to the itinerary. Just to take a look around. Since we’ll already be in the country anyways.”

“Good, good. I hope the two of you have fun.”

“Yes, why not turn your honeymoon into a murder investigation,” mutters Magnus, but neither Alec nor Maria hear him.

Or:

“The flowers cost _how_ much?” Maria looks like she’s about to have a heart attack.

“Seven,” says Magnus innocently, winking at Alec who rubs his temple and mumbles, _oh, come on._

“Seven what? Seven hundred?” Alec groans, as if in pain. When Magnus neither confirms nor denies the figure, Maria continues, appalled, “Seven thousand? Seven _hundred thousand?”_

“Stop teasing her,” admonishes Alec.

“I’m not teasing _Marianna_ , my darling.”

All joking aside, she really does remind Magnus of the Alec Lightwood from when they had first met, when Magnus had been instantaneously enthralled and Alec hadn’t quite figured out what to do with his attentions. Not just these superficial, surface-level similarities, but deeper ones as well: Alec too had been reserved and outright abrasive towards those he didn’t know or understand, and yet neither quality had quite managed to hide the unexpected decency and compassion that drove him. There had been something lonely about him, something wistful; something delicate. 

Watching him talk with his soon-to-be daughter-in-law makes Magnus cherish the ease with which Alec smiles now with even greater ferocity. There is a bone deep contentment to Alec that constantly envelopes him. To think that it was all set in motion with that kiss – with Alec taking a chance on the bizarre warlock who just couldn’t stay away, calling on his bravery and boldness to send Magnus’ world spinning in a completely unprecedented direction. 

Despite him playfully needling Alec about it earlier, Magnus had been nothing but wholly and painfully sincere when he said that it had been the best day of his life.

But the start was before even that, thinks Magnus, his gaze captured by the way Alec’s long, capable fingers run idly along the stem of his unused wineglass. The beginning had been softer, gentler, with Magnus spending the hours from midnight to sunrise hoarding the little pieces of himself that Alec had drawn the courage to offer, quiet words spoken under the forgiving cover of night. 

It’s staggering to Magnus to imagine that once upon a time, the sweetness lurking in Alec’s eyes when Magnus had pressed a gentle finger to quiet his stumbling mouth was just a promise, instead of a reality that Magnus now lives every day. 

Something had come to life within Magnus that night, something that had only grown tall and wild, flourished under the careful touch of Alec’s hands into what it is now: a timeless, boundless force. 

Magnus doesn’t know who he is without it. Who he was before it. 

And although he can’t imagine how the vastness of this feeling could exist in anyone else – because how can it, when there is only one Alec and he has already given himself to Magnus to love? – he hopes Raf and Maria find it in each other.

His thoughts leave him strangely sombre as he, Alec, and Maria return to the Institute. Maria thanks them both before heading off to get ready. 

“It’s not too late to change your mind about having that wedding photoshoot!” Magnus calls out to her. 

“Not going to happen!” Maria replies, without turning around.

“And don’t you dare step foot into the ceremonial hall unless Raf is waiting on the other end of the aisle!” 

Alec laughs a little when Maria just waves them goodbye. Magnus turns to face him.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “How can she not want a photoshoot? Even _you_ wanted a photoshoot for our wedding.”

“What are you talking about?” asks Alec. “Are you thinking of the other Magnus’ wedding with the other Alec?” His sarcasm is off the charts, which Magnus takes some pride in. “Because all we had was your photographer friend–”

“ _Acquaintance_ , Alexander, all my friends got actual invitations to attend the ceremony.”

“You know what I mean. We only took the three official photos and the other five hundred were just shots of the ceremony and reception.”

“You don’t think three photos count as a shoot?” asks Magnus, for no other reason than to be contrary. He sighs with unnecessary flair when Alec raises his eyebrows. “All right, you’ve caught me out. Probably for the best, anyway. The photoshoot would’ve had to be before the ceremony, and if I remember correctly, the two of us were quite occupied during that time.”

Alec barks out a laugh. Magnus can’t remember a time when the sound doesn’t prompt a smile of his own, and this instance is no different. “You know you have a perfect memory.”

Magnus does, and he can say with great certainty that while the images of the ceremony captured by their photographer – and the smartphones of most of the guests present – had been incredible, nothing could quite capture the magic of it. Being back in Tokyo in the first blush of spring, standing in Shinjuku Gyoen with both of Alec’s hands clasped in his own. The gentle summer breeze plucking the cherry blossoms from their twigs and having them catch in Alec’s dark hair. Alec sliding the ring onto Magnus’ finger, a band of gold with a delicately etched wedding rune Alec had painstakingly carved himself. 

There had also been the matter of how staggeringly large their guest list was – a byproduct of their respective positions in the shadow world – that even the Inquisitor and the members of the Consul had been present to witness their union. 

Magnus is startled out of his reverie when a _beep_ emits from Alec's pocket. “Work emergency?”

Alec frowns down at his phone. “Mayor wants to talk to me about the incident at Grand Central.”

“Hmm,” says Magnus. New York City’s mayor is perhaps Magnus’ most formidable nemesis of this decade. “Deputy Head Jace Herondale not cutting it?”

“Deputy Head Jace Herondale is too handsome and charming to yell at,” says Alec, rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure the Mayor wants to sleep with him.”

Magnus doesn’t believe it. There’s no way Alec is this naïve – except that he definitely is and always has been. The man can spot a hot piece from a mile away but could never wrap his head around the fact that many, _many_ others see him as a desirable being. It’s such a fruitless struggle to even try to convince him otherwise that Magnus hasn’t brought it up in years. The last time he did, Alec had just dismissively said, “Track record says no, but sure, if you say so.”

This time though Magnus can’t stay silent.

“Alec,” he says slowly. “The Mayor doesn’t want to sleep with Jace. He wants to sleep with _you_.”

“What?” says Alec, looking disturbed. “No, he doesn’t.” 

“Alec, he gave you a three thousand dollar cologne for your birthday last year.”

“So? Didn’t you say that that was one of the least expensive things I got?”

Magnus opens his mouth to further argue his point – something about relative income allocation and how it doesn’t make sense to compare a municipal politician with a Moroccan princess – but then Alec dismissively adds, “And anyways, it doesn’t even matter because he obviously has nothing on you. It’s a non-issue.”

“You say the sweetest things,” says Magnus, touched, because the Mayor is, in fact, a recently single thirty-something ex-underwear model who could probably _still_ be modeling underwear if he didn’t have other ambitions. Magnus has always been impressed by shrewd intelligence, especially when it’s expertly masked by a pretty face pretending not to know better. He probably would have gotten along famously with the Mayor if he wasn’t so transparent in his designs on Magnus’ husband of twenty-two years. 

Actually, even _that_ would be understandable because Alec’s a total silver fox – in spirit, if not in fact, since his hair right now still has more black than it does gray – and wanting him is only a sign of good taste. 

But to act on it right in front of Magnus while Alec is charmingly unaware to the whole thing?

That’s just distasteful. 

“It’s the truth,” says Alec, shrugging.

“If only our esteemed mayor knew that,” sighs Magnus. “Even after I made sure he stumbled onto us in the bathroom back in the summer, during that gala at the Met–”

“You did _what?_ ” Alec looks scandalized and perhaps, if Magnus isn’t projecting, just a little bit turned on. 

Pretending he didn’t hear, Magnus brightly says, “Well, your duty calls, Alexander. You should hurry and smooth the Mayor’s ruffled feathers – metaphorically, of course – so you can be back in time for Rafael’s wedding.”

“I’m not going to be late for my own son’s wedding,” grumbles Alec, but as always, he obligingly lets Magnus tug him down for a parting kiss. 

And if Magnus presses just a little too firmly and just a little off-centre, leaving a faint but noticeable smudge of mauve at the corner of Alec’s mouth that’ll probably be there for his meeting, then – well. 

It couldn’t have been helped. 

-

 

Naturally, because Jace has never had any loyalty to Magnus ever, he comes back within twenty minutes of Alec leaving.

“ _What_ are you doing here?” demands Magnus, stalking out to the corridor.

Jace stops in his path, turning around to look at Magnus confusedly. Magnus hasn’t seen him in almost a month and it looks like he’s going through one of his cyclical phases of growing a beard again. The dark blond strands are peppered with gray, cropped close to his jaw. Magnus considers suggesting some quality hair dyes.

He stops himself from making a comment when Jace whistles at the sight of Magnus’ work in the ceremonial hall. 

“Damn, Magnus,” he says. “This is impressive as hell. Why didn’t you plan my wedding?”

“Because you and Clary eloped in Madrid and nobody found out about it until three weeks later?” Magnus shakes his head, not letting himself get distracted. “My question, Jace. Why are you here instead of with Alec and the underwear model?”

“Because I need to drop off my weapons and go get Clary and the kids? Raf is getting married in like, two hours.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes before continuing, “You can’t possibly be worried about the Mayor wanting in Alec’s pants – you’ve been married for twenty-two years and Alec’s blind to any guy that isn’t you.”

“A-ha!” says Magnus. “But you _do_ agree that he wants to sleep with Alec.”

“Magnus, _everyone_ knows he wants to sleep with Alec. Except Alec.” Jace smirks. “He did get your message loud and clear though. Saw the lipstick and stopped right in his tracks.”

That’s what Magnus wanted to hear. He smiles, mollified, pleased that Jace has an appreciation for Magnus’ effective methods. “Excellent.”

Jace claps Magnus’ shoulder, laughing. “Have fun dealing with Alec once he figures it out.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I will.”

“Disgusting,” grins Jace. “Seriously though, I gotta go. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

Magnus sends Jace on his way. 

There’s not too much left to do at this point. Magnus can set up the chairs by himself, but where's the satisfaction in that when he can order Alec’s people around to do it instead?

It’s while he’s clearing the area where the guests will be portaling in from does Magnus notice that their first guest has arrived. 

There stands Maria's uncle, Dominic Torres, in the hallway of the control center, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. 

All the blood in Magnus’ body goes very, very cold, even as a wild fury grips him. Nobody had given this well dressed, rune-laden nephilim a second glance – and why would they, when there would be a wedding between their kind in just a couple hours in the Institute? 

Magnus has only seen this man once, kneeling next to Alec’s unconscious body, and that's all Magnus needs to have every pathetic detail of Dominic’s face burned into his mind. He would be able to recognize that man anywhere on this Earth, in this universe. 

In those awful weeks cooped up in Idris' top medical facility when they didn’t know whether Alec was going to make it or not, Magnus had kept obsessive tabs over Dominic’s trial and the progression toward his final sentencing. He hadn’t left Alec’s bedside the entire time, but when the case had closed Magnus knew exactly where he would need to go if he hadn’t been successful in keeping Alec’s heart beating while his soul tried to find its way back home.

Immortality makes warlocks understand the concept of true value. There’s absolutely no price that could compensate the world for Alec’s life, but taking Dominic’s would’ve been an excellent place for Magnus to start collecting. Even when Alec’s fluttered those beautiful eyes open and looked at Magnus in confusion, it had been excruciatingly difficult not to go ahead and execute that plan anyway.

It’s with these thoughts ravaging his head that Magnus strides over towards Dominic. Dominic is perhaps a few years older than Alec, built just as tall and still in the shape expected of an active shadowhunter. He keeps his dark hair short, half an inch from his scalp. Irrationally, Magnus gets even angrier, that this man would have anything in at all in common with Alec. Even something as inconsequential as height and hair colour.

“Hello,” says Magnus.

Dominic stiffens. There is a wary expression on his face when he turns around to look at Magnus.

 _Good_ , thinks Magnus. Dominic has every right to be cautious. Lightly, he continues, “I don’t know if you remember me.”

“I remember,” says Dominic shortly. 

“Excellent,” says Magnus. “Let’s take a walk.”

Not waiting for him to respond, Magnus starts to walk towards Alec’s office. To his credit, Dominic doesn’t protest and easily falls into step behind him. Everyone is used to Magnus walking these halls, often with shadowhunters trailing after him, so no one bats an eye when he walks right into the Head’s office and shuts the door behind him.

Dominic looks around the room with the keen-eyed interest of a detective. “Your husband’s?”

“Yes,” says Magnus, taking a seat at the edge of the recently purchased mahogany desk. With a flick of his wrist he seals the room shut. “The man you tried to kill four years ago.”

“Listen–”

“Wait, my mistake,” interrupts Magnus. A strange calm settles over him. “Killing would be one thing. No, you hacked up his body and tried to sell his soul. Everyone knows death would be kinder to a hero of the mortal wars than letting a Greater Demon have access to him.” 

Just thinking about it makes Magnus’ hands shake. “Now what kind of a man would I be if I let my husband’s would-be killer go without any consequences? My husband, who means more to me than anything?”

Dominic presses his mouth into a thin line. 

“A rare one,” he finally says. “Look, I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I’m here for Marianna only. You and I both know what happened that day wasn’t right, and nothing I say about why I had to do what I did is going to matter to you. It’s not going to change the past.” 

“It’s not,” agrees Magnus. “And I do think Marianna is a lovely girl who deserves every happiness, not the grief of losing you. It’s just that I love Alexander more, and every time I see you or even remember that you exist – I keep seeing his empty shell of a body bleeding out on the ground.”

There’s something to be said about this man, that he has the foolishness to look Magnus straight in the eye as he says, “Are you going to kill me?”

“No,” says Magnus. “I made a promise to Alec and Rafael that I wouldn’t kill you, which – let me tell you – my youngest son wasn’t happy about. I don’t want to ruin Maria’s wedding day. She’s going to be my daughter-in-law.” 

“Good,” says Dominic. “Today should be perfect for her.”

“It will be,” assures Magnus. “But I don’t think my family is naïve enough to think I wouldn’t do _anything_.”

Magnus gets to his feet, lets his eyes flare gold. Dominic instinctively flinches back; it’s only then he realizes he’s been bound, arms and legs frozen in place by an unseen rope, visible only to Magnus. 

“Okay,” says Dominic, straightening his spine. Bravery, or bravado in the face of knowing defeat – Magnus can't tell. “Do it.”

“Not going to shout for help?”

“Like someone would hear me.” Dominic has the audacity to roll his eyes. He doesn’t look scared though. He looks almost at peace. “Maybe this’ll help me make penance. Let me live with what happened. An eye for an eye, right?”

Not quite, given that a single fingertip of Alec’s is worth more to Magnus than Dominic’s entire life. “You really do regret what you did, don’t you?” 

The answer doesn’t really matter to Magnus. Magnus has had a long time to think about what he’d to this man if he ever had the chance to, and what he is about to do still falls in the kinder end of the spectrum. 

He gathers his powers onto his palm and places it on top of Dominic’s heart, feels it hammering even as Dominic’s gaze stays steady. Then suddenly he jolts, as though struck by lightning, when Magnus’ magic enters his body. 

“Until I lift this curse from you,” says Magnus quietly, “you’re going to spend every night feeling what my husband did that day. You will only be able to sleep as he did, when the pain gets to be too much to hold on to consciousness.” 

“By the Angel,” mutters Dominic, bracing a hand against his chest. “You don’t fuck around, do you?”

“No,” agrees Magnus. “But you said you were looking for penance, and that doesn’t come without some suffering. The good news is that you can still enjoy the wedding – but you might want to lie down while the magic makes its way through. The ceremony starts in an hour – don’t be late to walk your niece down the aisle.”

Magnus shuts the door behind him as he leaves. 

Alec returns some time later, looking delectable with windswept hair and cheeks stung red from the cold. He’s still in his ash-coloured woolen coat, unwinding the navy scarf from around his neck, a gift from Isabelle from a few birthdays past.

“So you were, uh, right about the Mayor,” he says, looking uncomfortable and having a hard time meeting Magnus’ eyes. 

The Mayor. Right – that’s what he’d been teasing Alec about before he left. A very broad definition of ‘teasing’, but nonetheless. Looking at Alec’s face, it’s surprisingly easy to let go of the lingering rage and cold satisfaction from his encounter with Dominic.

Maybe Magnus will be able to look at that man in the future and actually manage to be civil.

To Alec he says, “I know, my darling. The Mayor’s been quite… overt with his intentions for months.” Morbidly curious, he asks, “What made you see it today?”

“Well, the fact that you put the thought in my head had me paying more attention,” says Alec, sounding grumpy.

“And what exactly did you notice?” Alec purses his lips, and Magnus leaves behind ‘curious’ and settles well into ‘intrigued.’ “Oh, now you _have_ to tell me.”

Embarrassed, Alec runs a hand through his hair. It’s an action that always leaves him looking ten times hotter than he did before and Magnus’ mouth runs dry. Oblivious, Alec says, “He kept staring at my mouth, okay? Is he always like that? It was so obvious I felt like an idiot for never noticing before.”

Magnus starts to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” says Alec, frowning. He’s still got the faintest traces of colour on his lips. Magnus quite likes it there, and doesn’t feel the need to correct Alec to say that no, however it was that the Mayor was looking at him today – it definitely isn’t his usual MO. Alec doesn’t normally look like he’s just been ravished when he’s attending important meetings.

“To be fair, my darling, you do have an incredible mouth.” Magnus supplements his point with a kiss. 

Alec sighs when he pulls away. “Seriously though. How am I supposed to work with him now?”

“Ahh, well, that’s a problem for next week, when you’re back from Egypt.” 

“That’s not a solution, Magnus.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Only if you help me,” says Alec, shaking his head before leaning down to kiss Magnus again.

They’re interrupted just a moment later with a quietly whispered, “By the Angel.”

Both Magnus and Alec turn around to see Raf, standing in the arched doorway, looking handsome in his perfectly tailored tux. Magnus thinks that it’s been years since he last saw that lovely wonder in Raf’s eyes as he looks around the old hall. It’s one of his best works, if he does say so himself; the Institute transformed into a scene from a winter fairytale with gold and silver drapes, glowing fairy lights, and hundreds of thousands delicate white jasmines tucked in every little corner of the hall.

Raf shakes his head, a brittle look overtaking his face as he strides forward and draws his parents into a fierce hug. 

“It’s so perfect,” he says softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course, you silly bean,” says Magnus, heart feeling too big for the cage in his chest. “Nothing less for you.”

-  
-

 

The guests start to trickle in about an hour before the ceremony. When the Penhallows arrive, Alec kisses Aline’s cheek and shakes Helen’s hand in greeting. When Catarina comes in, Alec barely gets out a, “Good to see you,” before Madzie is barreling past her adoptive mother and drawing Alec into a fierce hug, unmindful of how her lavender gown is surely getting wrinkled. A small price to pay to have his goddaughter in his arms.

She’s grinning widely, as she pulls back. “Look at you guys,” she says. “Throwing your first kid his wedding!”

“We do have some experience from throwing one for you,” Alec reminds her. “Where’s Emma?”

“In the last leg of a board meeting in Singapore,” says Madzie, rolling her eyes. “I told her if she doesn’t message me to portal her here in the next twenty minutes she’s finding her own way back to the country.”

Alec laughs. 

“I don’t expect anything less,” he says, hugging her one more time. “I’m just going to go check on Maria if you guys want to grab a seat. Catarina, Magnus is with Raf in the annex portaling in the vampires, if you wanted to say hello. 

“Thanks Alec. I think I _will_ go talk to him now – he’ll probably be even busier during the reception.” Catarina is shaking her head as she says this, and Alec understands her fond exasperation all too well – Magnus has always been a busy bee, and neither of them would have him any other way. “Congratulations again to your family, Alec. I’m very happy for all of you.”

As Catarina walks off, Alec goes the opposite direction from the foyer, deeper into the halls of the Institute towards the residential suites. Maria is set up in one of the guest bedrooms, and Alec gently knocks. “Maria? You holding up all right in there?”

“You can come in,” she responds, voice muffled through the door. 

Accepting her invitation, Alec turns the handle and walks in. Maria, who is sitting in front of her dresser, turns around to give him a brief, tentative smile. She looks radiant in her white and gold dress, dark hair piled high on her head. Her golden brown skin is glowing under the light of the setting sun, filtering in through the window. 

Gently, Alec says, “You look beautiful.”

Maria looks embarrassed. 

“Oh. Thanks.” Clearing her throat, she very carefully asks, “Is Uncle Dom here?”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” says Alec. “We’ve still got some time, and I’ll send him here the second he arrives.”

“ _If_ he does,” mutters Maria. 

“He will,” says Alec, and he means it with a sort of certainty that surprises even himself. No one has ever doubted that Dominic loves Maria – in fact, if Alec knew that Dominic had been trying to reconcile with her, he wouldn’t have hesitated in encouraging Maria to mend that fence. It makes Alec think of his mother and that quiet goodbye they shared at her deathbed, both grateful to have lived a life where they loved and forgave one another and helped each other grow.

“I keep thinking he’ll change his mind.” There’s something pinched in Maria’s eyes, a hollow pitch to her quiet voice. “He’s been trying to reconnect with me for so long and I’ve been throwing it back in his face.”

“You can tell him that that was my fault.”

“I’m not going to do that,” responds Maria immediately, frowning. “Not when it was just me being a coward. And having too much pride.”

To that, Alec doesn’t respond right away. It’s a difficult area to navigate, the complicated relationship between holding yourself accountable, forgiving yourself for stumbling, and being patient with yourself to learn and grow. Alec’s his own harshest critic and always has been. Even now, when he’s reached a stable point both professionally and personally, Alec often finds himself second guessing himself and his capacity as a husband and father and a leader in the Clave. All duties he has to fulfill at any given time, each role an integral part of who he is.

The truth of it is that when it comes to those he loves, Alec has no pride. He’s always looking for an excuse to forgive but when it comes to himself he’s holding on to any reason to punish. It’s not the worst of his shortcomings, but it hurts to see that same quality clear as day in Marianna’s eyes, shining bright with shame. 

Her transparent misery gives Alec the push he needs to speak again. “I know I’m being a hypocrite by saying this because I wouldn’t believe it if someone said the same thing to me – but Maria, you’re allowed to make mistakes. Not that you _did_ ,” he adds, lest she thinks he’s trying to imply something, “but if it happens – that’s just life.” 

“You’re right,” says Maria, dryly. “I don’t believe it.”

“I know,” says Alec, and even manages to laugh a little. The beats of his heart echo loudly in his ears. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so exposed in front of someone other than Magnus, shone such an unforgiving light on these parts of himself. 

But it helps, knowing that it might lead to benefit Maria. 

“I hope that one day you will, though. That we both will. That sometimes we’ll jump to conclusions, sometimes we’ll make the wrong call. It’s not okay but we’ll learn from it, acknowledge it and make amends to fix whatever it is that we did wrong and never do it again.”

Maria’s shoulders and back are straight; the only sign of the delicate hold she has on herself – as flimsy as the rein Alec has over his own emotions – is that she blinks once, twice, three times in rapid succession.

“And the part I can absolutely guarantee,” says Alec, “is that the people who truly care about you will always understand. They will tell you when you’re wrong and help you be better from it – they will be patient with you when you can’t be patient with yourself.” 

And this is one of the few truths that Alec keeps close to his heart. Over the years, Alec has loved rarely – he can count on one hand the number of people he cares for outside of his family – but if someone like Alec, someone so clumsy with love, has always had the capacity to forgive then it must be easier than breathing for everyone else.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you did anything wrong. You were doing your best in a bad and weird situation.” He pauses briefly, before reemphasizing his point, “Your Uncle loves you, Marianna. He’ll be here.”

Maria doesn’t respond for a while. Alec is more than happy to wait, to let her stare blindly at her reflection until she feels ready to talk.

Finally, she says, “I can’t believe you’re giving me advice on how to cope with being a fuck-up.”

“I’m just glad to have someone to give this advice to,” says Alec lightly. “The rest of my family doesn’t really fit the bill.”

“Wow, thanks,” says Maria, but she’s smiling now.

There’s a perfect, beautiful moment of peace. 

And then Max is banging at the door before he pokes his head through and nervously says, “Dad? Maria? Uh, there’s a bit of a situation.” 

Giving a wary look toward Alec, Maria says, “What is it?”

“Dominic’s here and Raf is like five seconds away from murdering him?”

“What?” says Maria, tone warring between horrified and disbelieving. “ _Rafael?_ ”

“Papa’s trying to mediate without using magic,” says Max. “But that’ll only work until Raf busts out his seraph blade and the second Papa starts throwing spells we’re gonna be living the summer of 2027 again and trust me, no one wants that.”

Alec feels like he’s in a bizarre, fever induced dream. The fact that Raf, the most level-headed member of their family, is apparently _not_ as at peace with this whole incident as he had seemed and _Magnus_ is the one that’s stopping Dominic Torres from getting stabbed is the exact opposite of what Alec had been expecting today. 

Impatiently, Max says, “I know this is like the Twilight Zone but can we please get a move on.”

“Right,” says Alec. Max hurries down the hallway, and Maria and Alec follow at his heels.

“What happened the summer of 2027?” Maria asks Max, her heels clicking against the floor.

“Raf and Papa had a massive fight and didn’t talk for like, six weeks,” replies Max. “That was, uh, an interesting time.” 

Sure, thinks Alec sardonically, if ‘interesting’ could be translated to ‘the most stressful period of Alec’s life, including when he spent three weeks in Edom.’

“Ah,” says Maria, understanding. “That summer.” 

“Yeah, and the terms of them talking again was that Papa would never use magic to prevent Raf from doing anything unless he was literally about to break a law – which, full disclosure, I don’t think either of them considers messing up your uncle to be a crime – so we better hurry before this turns bad.”

Except when they get to the annex, the sight that greets them is very different than the one Max had been describing. 

Dominic has a bruised jaw, yes, but Raf is drawing the healing rune on the back of Dominic’s hand, presumably to take care of it. Magnus is pinching the bridge of his nose, with the general aura of someone who’s just come out of a one-on-one meeting with the Seelie Queen. 

Max looks flabbergasted.

“Uh,” he says. “I swear this wasn’t the situation when I came to find you two.”

There’s probably more to be said, but Dominic freezes the second he spots Maria, and everyone else follows suit. 

It’s strange to be the same room as Dominic Torres. Alec had fallen unconscious a few hours into the whole demon summoning ordeal, although multiple sources had updated him on what exactly happened that night. This is really Alec’s first time being face-to-face with him, and he half expected to find some unresolved anger. 

However Alec finds that he feels nothing except a staggering relief when Dominic says, “Oh, _mi águila feroz_ ,” and Maria heaves a great, rattling breath and rushes into his arms.

Raf walks up beside Alec, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

“Sorry that I, uh, couldn’t avenge you properly,” he says. In giving Marianna and Dominic a moment to catch up with each other, the Lightwood-Banes gravitate toward one another. “I did get a good punch in though.”

“That’s all right,” says Alec, who would’ve rather that none of his family got into fights to protect his honour but understands that none of them – himself included – is built that way. He can’t help but look at Magnus and playfully add, “That’s one more punch than your Papa got in.”

Max starts to laugh and Magnus looks outraged. “Alexander Gideon–” he starts, but Max interrupts him to say, “Papa, chill, he’s clearly messing with you.”

“He better be,” mutters Magnus. Looking Alec straight in the eyes, he says, “Just one word from you–”

“I know,” says Alec softly. “I know.”

“Pluto,” confirms Max, nodding. 

Raf gives him a suspicious look. “What are you even talking about?”

They’re all too much. His perfect, patchwork family. To think that it started with him and Magnus, stitching together their lives with such painful care. And then Max, with his mischievous magic and the tiny hats he wore as a baby, with equally tiny holes for his horns to poke through. And then, finally, Raf – sweet, gentle Raf who had grown to be a formidable warrior, but never old enough to grow out of loving those silly light-up shoes.

Alec loves them so much he can barely breathe with it even in the worst of days, and today – today’s the opposite of that. Today’s the best of days.

-

 

There’s very little time for Dominic and Maria to talk to each other before the ceremony is due to start. Maria only has to look at Alec for Alec to understand that her uncle would be the one giving her away. He nods at her, to again reiterate that she has his blessing, and let’s Magnus hustle him and the kids into the hall. 

“He wants to talk to you, after,” Raf informs him before hurrying to the altar. “To make amends, I guess.”

“I’m the last person he needs to do that with.”

“The first,” corrects Raf. “As far as the rest of us are concerned.”

Alec just sighs and takes a seat in the front row with Max, right at the edge of the aisle. Izzy is on Max’s other side with the rest of her family, and she immediately throws an arm around Max’s shoulder to pull him into the lively debate on whether Simon’s tie matches Izzy’s dress. 

Magnus, who is still standing, leans down to kiss Alec’s cheek and says, “I better get this thing started before some handsome warlock has the chance to gatecrash the wedding and run away with the groom.”

Alec’s face grows hot even as he rolls his eyes. “Could be the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“Please, darling, you know you’re going to put a kill order on anyone who causes any problems today.”

“And you’ll be the one to execute that order, after everything you’ve been through to put this thing together.”

“That’s very true,” says Magnus, and squeezes Alec’s shoulder once before running up to join Raf at the altar. With a snap of his fingers he summons the necklace Raf will be gifting to Maria, passing it off to Raf for a last minute inspection. 

Max pulls away from his aunt, uncle, and cousins to gently elbow Alec’s ribs. “Damn,” he whistles, looking around. “Papa really outdid himself, huh?”

“It’s incredible,” agrees Alec. It’s only just past sundown, but Magnus has done something to the stained-glass windows so that it appears to be struck by moonlight. Individual beams are prominent in the darkness inside the hall, the silver and gold drapes shining under the otherworldly light. Strings of white, sweet-smelling jasmine are woven together with fairy lights, running along the backs of the seats, circling the pillars, and wrapping around the altar. 

And then there are the everlasting tea lights dotting either side of the aisle, creating a well-lit path for Maria and Dominic to walk down. Those same candles are also floating above them, high in the vaulted ceiling. They might as well be stars, glowing from light years away. It drives home once more that Magnus’ magic isn’t just mystical – it’s his ability to see something beautiful in his mind, his heart, and bring it to life.

Almost wistfully, Alec asks, “You want one of these of your own one day?”

“Uh,” says Max, looking startled. “D’you mean... a wedding?” When Alec nods, Max says, “Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it.” 

That’s fair enough. Max is only twenty-four, and in that time there’s only been that one short-lived relationship with his now best friend Jamie, when they were both seventeen. 

Well, at any rate, Jamie is Max’s only significant other Alec knows about, but Alec’s fairly certain that Max would’ve told him if there was someone else. 

It’s possible that Max isn’t interested in romance. Either way – “You’ve got time to figure it out,” says Alec.

“Yeah, well. I’ll need it. Big decision to commit to, you know? One person for the rest of your life.”

That stops Alec short. When he turns to look at Max, he finds that his son has an oddly serious look on his face, staring blankly in front of him.

This isn’t how Alec wants Max to think about love, when ‘the rest of your life’ has a very different meaning for Max than it does for Raf. 

“Max,” he starts, voice soft. “It’s fine if it’s different for you. Your life’s not going to be the same as mine or Raf’s, or even your Papa’s.”

“Maybe,” allows Max, but it’s clear that he’s just indulging Alec. On what exactly, Alec’s not sure. Hesitantly, Max asks, “Did you... did you want to see me get married?”

All at once, Alec understands the hidden question tucked underneath the one he just asked.

He feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. That Max thinks about this, about what Alec wants in this life so that he’s content with what he’ll be leaving behind.

The desire to pull Max into a fierce embrace is overwhelming, hold him close the way he used to when Max was a sleepy infant, his small heart beating strong and fast against Alec’s own. It’s not that Alec doesn’t know he and Magnus have a good relationship with their sons – the whole thing with Dominic, at the very least, is proof enough of their protectiveness – but this. 

“All I want to see is you and Raf happy,” replies Alec, throat tight. “And I think you are. Wedding or no wedding. By yourself or with someone. In whatever way works for you, even if it changes over the years.”

“I am, you know,” says Max. “In case you’re ever worried about it. I’m happy. I may not have a Marianna, or what you have with Papa, but even if I never do it doesn’t. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m missing anything.”

“Good,” says Alec. “And you better tell me if you’re ever not, you got it?”

“Like you and Papa wouldn’t force it out of me, anyway,” says Max, forcing his voice back to its usual, unimpressed tone. Alec rolls his eyes, knocks his shoulder against Max’s in gentle rebuke. 

And then Magnus is calling everyone’s attention as Brother Isiah takes center stage, and the ceremony starts. 

If Maria had looked beautiful before, it’s nothing compared to how radiant she looks walking toward Raf now, an arm looped into her uncle’s, and a bouquet of golden roses clutched in her hands. Raf’s eyes don’t leave her for a single moment from the second she enters the hall – not when Dominic places her hand in Raf’s, and not when Brother Isiah starts to recite the relevant passages.

The words resonate within Alec as it always has. From the moment when he was eight years old and first heard the passages, attending as a reluctant guest for a distant Lightwood relative. The rights and responsibilities spouses have toward one another, to love and support unconditionally. To be light in the darkness, and the cover of shade under the harshness of the sun. To be the sword and shield both, a lifelong dance of give and receive.

When Brother Isiah gives them his blessing to recite their vows, Raf goes first. 

“I love you beyond any measure, Marianna Torres,” he says, voice sure and steady. “Getting to see you first thing every morning – it’s like having the best dream last for a minute longer. Better than that is the rest of the day, when being with you isn’t a dream. It’s just my life.

“The best and truest experience I have with love is what I feel for my family. What I feel when I look at you – the vastness of it is the same, even if it’s different in the details. And today we’re about to become our own family of two, and I don’t want you to have any doubt about what that means.”

Raf takes a moment to clear his throat, letting go of just one of Maria’s hands to pull out a piece of paper from the pocket inside his jacket. He had been speaking with such grace, Alec hadn’t realized Raf had just been making this up as he was going along. “When I think about love, and what a successful marriage is, I think about my parents and the life they built together.”

All of Alec comes to a standstill except for his heart, which jumps in his chest. He looks toward Magnus on instinct and finds Magnus already staring back at him; a quiet smile on his face, his eyes wide with surprise and – and something else. 

Love, maybe. Disbelief. An unexpected, overwhelming wave of humility. 

Unaware that his words have caused tremors on the ground on which Alec stands, Raf continues, “And being surrounded by it for so long, there are three things I’ve learned on what, I think, makes love thrive and survive and grow. These three things I want to promise you today. You already know I’ll always do my best to make you happy, so I’m not going to use up a point on that.”

There’s a little scatter of laughter across the hall, but Maria’s is the loudest, the brightest. She blinks, and there’s something fragile in her voice as she says, “Oh, Rafael.” 

“First, I promise that I’ll be steadfast. You don’t ever have to doubt that I’ll stick by you, and that’s forever, no matter what happens. If a day comes when we’re different people, when we don’t understand each other, or we get so angry that we can’t see straight or the future seems scary and not what we expected – I promise the one thing you can count on is that, as long as I’m alive and as long as you want me, I’m going to be there.”

“Second, I promise that I’ll be patient. It’s not always going to be easy, and sometimes we’ll make mistakes. But you don’t have to be afraid of making mistakes with me, Marianna. You don’t have to be perfect. Life is short and it’s already been harder on you than it had any right to be and if sometimes – if sometimes you stumble, I’ll be here. You are _good_ , Marianna, and I’ll forgive you any time you can’t forgive yourself.” 

The familiarity of the words strike Alec, and the pinpricks behind his eyes move to the front. To think that the way Alec’s strived to love Magnus and the boys – the best he’d been able to do, even though he’s fumbled from time to time – it had been enough. Enough for Raf to want to love this family he's creating in the same way.

“Third,” says Raf, lifting his gaze from his written vows to meet Maria’s. “I promise you that I’ll always, always try to be kind. I’ll be gentle with you. I’ll never say or do anything to purposefully hurt you and I will do my very best to take care of you in every way you need, in every way I know how.” His voice wavers at the end as he says, “All this I promise you today, a vow to be sealed on my skin by your hand with the drawing of the marriage rune.”

When Raf finishes, the hall is so silent that Alec imagines he can hear each of the hundreds of flames flickering above them. Rafael lets his written vows drop to the ground, and takes Maria’s free hand back into his own.

Beside Alec, Max whispers, “Goddamn, Raf,” and wipes at his eyes. 

Maria starts to speak multiple times over the next few moments but can’t seem to find the words. It’s not until Brother Isiah says in a reverberating psychic boom, _Marianna Torres, it is now you who must give a voice to what is in your heart,_ that she seems to snap out of it. 

“I’m not good with words the way you are, Rafael,” says Marianna, sounding choked. “I’m not good with actions, either. I’m not good at being soft or – or being gentle.”

Raf has his lips pressed together, as though physically stopping himself from arguing. Alec relates to the instinct. 

“But what I _am_ good at is hard work. When something matters to me, I’m good at following through and sticking it out and being the best at it.” And somehow, just like that, that uncertain quality in Maria’s posture vanishes as a fierce wave of determination overtakes her instead. “And you matter to me.” 

She pauses, just for a moment, her grip on Raf’s hands tightening. “So today I promise to you that I will spend our marriage working hard to make you smile. I love you, and while that’s true inside of me every second of every day – I’ll try my best to make sure _you_ always feel it, that you always know it. I’ll be your fiercest champion, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, no matter if the enemy is a demon, or an illness, or unhappiness. There is no burden I won’t shoulder with you. 

“All this I promise you today,” says Maria, “a vow to be sealed on my skin by your hand with the drawing of the marriage rune.”

Raf takes in a deep, rattling breath and holds out his right hand in offering toward Maria. She pulls out her stele and touches the tip of it toward the glowing adamas and presses a kiss to the bend of Raf’s wrist.

Alec has to avert his gaze, throat tight with tenderness and unable to look at this unbearably intimate moment. 

As is always the case when he’s feeling strangely raw and vulnerable, Alec finds his gaze drawn toward Magnus, toward his soft eyes and softer smile. It’s both the magic of weddings and seeing his husband illuminated by fairy lights that something quietly, achingly familiar enters Alec’s heart. 

With Raf and Maria’s voices ringing in his head, Alec realizes that while he can barely remember whatever inadequate promises he had made to Magnus the day of their own wedding, he can recall Magnus’ vows with perfect clarity: 

_I’ve walked what seems like every inch of this world, my love, and that long and tiring path led me to you. I want you to know that I don’t take that for granted. That I won’t take you for granted. You’ve changed my life with the rarity of your grace and kindness. The way you love others, without a thought for yourself. That when you let yourself love me, you did so without any reservations. For all these years – you’ve loved me so wholly. So bravely. And it means more than you’ll ever know that at this moment, you want to love me for years more to come._

_So today, Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane, I promise you this: that for as long as I live, I will love you with that same fearlessness with which you love me. That as you grow and change, I will grow and change with you. I’ll do my best to keep you as safe as you make me feel. I will cherish you every day, treasure every moment I have with you. I will do my best to make sure you never – that you never regret this. Of choosing me to share your one and only life with. I’m not going to let you go. Not until I have to._

As Raf draws a matching union rune on Maria, Alec thinks about how this is the one thing that he and Magnus never had – and how at the end, it hadn’t mattered. The words Magnus spoke that day are as part of Alec as all the marks he _does_ have inked into his skin. 

And just like his runes, they must be infused with some kind of angelic magic because everything Magnus had promised – they had all come and stayed true.

-  
-  
-  
-

 

Magnus doesn’t get a moment of peace until well past dinner, when everyone has dispersed into little groups for drinks and dancing and general socializing. He’s lost track of his kids a while ago – he’s pretty sure Max is throwing an after-party at the Four Seasons with cash earned in suspect ways – and Alec’s doing his diplomat routine around the hall, making sure to have a word with every guest present. 

Magnus collapses onto one of the little tables still set up on the border of the dance floor. Today has been rough on his magic; from portaling back and forth from Indonesia, to controlling the lighting in the hall so that the vampires could be in attendance through three different venues – Magnus could sleep for the next three years. In lieu of that, he summons an obscene amount of leftovers from the Institute’s kitchen and gives himself a night off from watching what he eats.

He’s just finished shoveling three meals worth of food in his stomach when he feels a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me.” 

Magnus turns around, startled. His surprise quickly turns to delight when he sees Alec standing there with a light in his eyes and a breathtaking smile on his face. 

It’s absurd, how Magnus’ heartbeat rockets at the sight, the rush of giddiness that courses through him. Twenty-seven years of seeing this face and still Magnus is struck with it every time. 

With great seriousness, Alec says, “You’re a hard man to track down.”

Magnus grins, deciding to play along. “Someone has to keep the show running,” he says, coyly touching the cuff of his ear. “Not everyone has my talent.”

Alec extends a hand toward him. “Can you spare five minutes to give me the next dance?”

“Well, you _are_ very handsome,” says Magnus, placing his hand on Alec’s open palm. He lets Alec lead him to the dance floor as an upbeat song is coming to a close. “But my husband won’t be too happy to see me dancing with another man.”

Alec laughs. “Well, it’s his fault for letting you out of his sight when anyone with common sense would try to steal you away.” 

Magnus brings them to a stop, and guides Alec’s arms around his waist. When he had transformed the hall from the ceremonial setup to something more fitting for the reception where Raf and Maria would have their first dance, the intention _had_ been to make it terribly romantic. The ceiling has been transformed to reflect the clear night sky and softly glowing lanterns are at the center of the circular tables at the edge of the dance floor. The ever-burning candles are still floating about, but the fairy lights had been replaced by genuine sprites. They radiate a warm, golden light as they zoom about, leaving sparkling trails of magic at their wake. Magnus and Alec had made friends with this particular coven when the two of them were traveling across the Scandinavia a few years back, and learned that they could harvest and store this inexplicable, magical energy of weddings. A win-win situation for everyone to have them here.

So yes, while his intention had been to make the hall wistful and fantastical, he hadn’t been prepared to see Alec amidst all of this. There’s silver dust on his shoulders and the wings of a particularly enamored sprite fluttering by his right ear. He’s gazing at Magnus with such frank affection that Magnus wants to curl his body around Alec and use it as a shield, scold him for letting something as rare and precious as his heart be put on display like this.

They’re standing so close that their chests are pressed together. Magnus takes Alec’s beloved face between his hands and finally says, “I only have eyes for one man. Nobody could steal me away.”

“Your husband’s very lucky to have you,” murmurs Alec, voice gentle.

“I’m very lucky to have him.” Almost three decades, and Magnus still doesn’t think Alec will ever know or understand. Not unless he steps into Magnus’ consciousness, let’s himself get lost in feeling what Magnus is, the way it thunders through his veins. 

A familiar series of chords hit Magnus’ ears. The opening notes on a piano. “Oh,” he says, starting to smile. He shouldn’t be surprised that this is Alec’s doing. “It’s our song.”

“Is it?” says Alec. “What a coincidence.”

Magnus sighs, curls his arms around Alec until his splayed hands are pressed against Alec’s shoulder blades, a familiar embrace. Under the sharp, tempting scent of his cologne, the curve of Alec’s neck still smells like the pine needles after a rainfall. Magnus breathes in deep as he sways, the melody of the song and Alec’s offbeat humming filling up his ears. 

As is often the case when Magnus is with Alec, the whole, ever expanding universe seems to shrink down to just the space between the two of them, their bodies the boundary between all that is known and everything beyond.

Quietly, Alec says, “I have to leave for Cairo in the morning.”

“I’ll come with you,” says Magnus immediately. “My week’s not too busy. We can go explore the pyramids again during the evening.”

“Do you mean to see one of the greatest feats of mankind from the outside like a regular tourist, or are we going to be breaking into one of the sealed tombs thirty feet underground?” 

“You know the answer to that, Alexander,” replies Magnus. “What ever happened to your sense of adventure?”

“Ran off with my sense of romance,” says Alec, voice dry. “From that last time, when I fell into a five thousand year old sarcophagus with my pants around my ankles and a dead guy still inside it.”

Magnus hides his face against Alec’s shoulder, tucking his smile out of sight. “Ah, I remember that. I went into a jealous rage, didn’t I? To think that mummy’s the only other man to–”

“Stop, that’s not funny,” says Alec, even as he starts to laugh. “I mean it. I’m still traumatized and it’s at least fifty percent your fault.”

“I don’t think it’s funny either! If he wasn’t already dead for five thousand years, I would’ve definitely cursed him for getting frisky with you like that.” 

“ _Seventy_ percent.”

Magnus can’t keep his laughter silent anymore. It spills out of him, light and happy. “Oh, my darling. How did I ever talk you into doing – _anything_ ever again after that disaster?”

“You must have used a spell,” says Alec, eyes bright and creased with mischief. Magnus doesn’t know why everyone thinks he is the inspiration behind Max’s exploits when clearly Max gets his wit from his Dad. “Bewitched me into agreeing with your every whim.”

“I guess my secret’s out.”

“If only you were powerful enough to make me stop nagging you about keeping the bathroom counter clean.” 

“No magic in the universe can accomplish the impossible, Alexander, you know that.”

Alec laughs once more, a brief burst of joy. Magnus is seized with something hopeless, helpless, all encompassing. Alec is so lovely that Magnus has to reach out and touch the familiar slope of Alec’s jaw, graze his fingers along the faintest stubble that have started to take form and assure himself that’s this man in front of him is not a dream. 

It’s not just because of how Alec looks under this otherworldly light, living proof of the existence of angels. If Magnus had any talent for poetry, he’d have made another modest fortune writing about the sweep of Alec’s eyelashes, and the indescribable hazel of his irises. That guileless innocence that never quite went away, no matter the fractures in his heart or the blood on his hands. 

Alec is the kind of muse that artists spend their entire lives dreaming of finding, and here he is, standing in front of Magnus, not even a foot away. Alec, who has loved Magnus both unwaveringly and unconditionally. Who wanted to be Magnus’ family, and brought home to them two incredible sons. Alec, who took Magnus’ hand and didn’t once let go as the two of them fought tirelessly to make this unforgiving world into something a shade kinder, a shade more beautiful, even if they stumbled a few times along the way. 

He is all of Magnus’ deepest, most secret desires come true, the very foundation of Magnus’ world. Centuries of ups and downs, of making himself cold in an effort to stop himself from drowning in grief – somehow it’s led to this perfect moment right now, preluded by so many others before it. 

Worth it, Magnus thinks, trying to sear every detail of Alec’s face into his mind. Completely worth it. He would go through much worse for four more centuries if at the end of it he got to have another handful of years with Alec. 

Magnus must be silent for some time, because he’s nudged gently back into awareness by a murmured, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

Magnus leans back a little to meet Alec’s inquisitive gaze. A different song is playing now, something a few beats too fast for their slow, easy movements. “Do you remember,” Magnus says quietly, “what you said to me when you asked me to marry you?”

”Of course,” says Alec, confused. “But it wasn’t anything special. I said, ‘Magnus, will you do me the honour of being my husband’?” 

Magnus can’t help but smile. 

“I should’ve been more specific. I meant, do you remember what you said to me after I replied yes?”

“Oh.” Alec’s eyebrows draw together as he tries to recall that night. Magnus feels his pulse drumming in his ears. “I... don’t, sorry. I was probably too busy feeling relieved. Was it ‘I love you’? ‘Thank the angel’? ‘Are you sure’?”

“I mean – yes, you did say all of that.” Magnus’ throat feels dry. “But then you said, ‘I’m not going to let you down, Magnus.’”

“Did I?” Alec looks thoughtful. “I guess that sounds like me. It was definitely one of the forty-two things I had written down for my vows before Izzy made me cut it down.” He shakes his head, seemingly both amused and embarrassed at himself. “Why, what’s bringing this up? Did I not keep my promise?” 

He says this lightly, carelessly, but Magnus’ response is fierce.

“Of course you kept your promise,” he says, and Alec startles at the firmness of his reply. “Of course you do,” continues Magnus more gently. “You keep it every day. But you told me once that I never had to prove myself to you, and I should have told you that night that you never had to prove yourself to me, either.”

Alec grows quiet. Stroking the soft skin at the nape of Alec’s neck, Magnus says, “You never had to, but you did. You blew away every expectation I had from this life.”

“Oh,” says Alec. And it’s not even a word – just a single syllable – but the weight it carries behind it might as well have been the entire history of spoken language. “I’m–” he stops, seemingly lost. Finally, Alec settles on, “Okay. I’m – I’m glad that you think that.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No,” says Alec, and then immediately corrects himself. “Well, not really. I know that what we have is – it’s amazing.”

“But?” prompts Magnus.

“No buts. I just – I want you to have everything you want and I’m always going to think that way. It’s not going to change now.”

This stupid, selfless man, thinks Magnus, willing away the sting in his eyes. To think Magnus would be left wanting for anything when he’s got Alec curling into bed beside him every night. 

“I love you,” says Magnus, placing a kiss onto Alec’s mouth. When Alec goes to respond, Magnus just kisses him again, and keeps pressing kisses until Alec gets the idea and stops trying to speak.

Magnus pulls away only as the song comes to a close. It must be the third or fourth one since Alec walked with him onto the dance floor. It feels like just a blink, when just a moment ago, it had felt as though they were suspended from time.

“Ah, I guess that’s the end of that one.” Not wanting to leave the quiet tranquility of being within the folds of Alec’s arms, Magnus says, “Let’s keep going for one more song?” 

“And the one after that and the one after that,” says Alec. He tugs Magnus close once more. With a snap of Magnus’ fingers, the familiar opening notes of a piano duet fill the air. “We’ve got time.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading! please feel free to drop a comment if you enjoyed :D


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